


Cherries and Wine

by dontyoudarestiles, pineapplebreads



Series: Picture Book [4]
Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Age Difference, Credence in Lingerie, Daddy Kink, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Feminization, Fluff and Smut, Genderfluid Credence, M/M, Mostly porn, Not much plot, Puppies, Timeskips, Wedding Fluff, one moment of transphobic language, slight angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-02
Updated: 2017-10-07
Packaged: 2018-12-23 03:23:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 32,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11981073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dontyoudarestiles/pseuds/dontyoudarestiles, https://archiveofourown.org/users/pineapplebreads/pseuds/pineapplebreads
Summary: The five times Graves surprised Credence and the one time Credence surprised him back.





	1. Year 1

1.

The door closes with a soft click as Graves steps into the hallway, his collar sticking to his neck from the balmy heat, the kind that sinks into the tarmac and lurks there for weeks. It’s been a wickedly hot summer.

Inside the firm, men with their dress shirts spotted with sweat walk down the hall with ties loosened and sleeves rolled up. Women in high heels fan themselves listlessly with paperwork in the breakroom, hair frizzing with sweat. The powers that be finally decide to let the lawyers and paralegals out early when the central air unit hiccoughs its last breath.

Even Credence, a lover of hot summer days, had seemed dazed by it that morning, barely able to take a step out of the house without gasping at the wall of heat rolling in from the south and slipping back indoors to take refuge in the cool, air-conditioned living room.

It makes Graves all the more glad that Tina had been whisked away by her grandparents to cruise the Mediterranean and travel the region for the summer. She should be in Croatia by now. At least one of them is spared this heat wave.

“It's great, dad,” Tina had told him in her last phone call home. “It's so beautiful here in Hvar. I wish you could've come with us.”

Graves had sighed, a huff of fond exasperation with just the slightest bit of regret. “You know I couldn't, Teens, I have so much work to do. And I don't think I would survive two months with your grandparents, you know that.”

She'd laughed, already ready to hang up and return to her fun. “Okay, dad,” she’d said. “I'll see you soon. Say hi to Credence for me if you see him.”

“Credence?” Graves calls out presently, surprised at the empty kitchen and entryway. Usually Credence greets him at the door for a welcome home kiss, but he did arrive early. Still, Credence should've heard the door even if he wasn't expecting Graves.

Graves slips upstairs, thinking maybe his boy’s in the bedroom, napping or reading, but once he's in the hallway, he hears a splash of water and sees the bathroom door open a crack, low soft music spilling into the corridor. Graves smiles. His princess is taking a bath. Even the thought of Credence lounging in the tub, pinked from the warm water, soft curls soaked and plastered to his shoulders, lashes spiky with moisture makes heat bloom in Graves’ stomach.

He quietly pushes the door open, planning on sneaking up on his darling when Credence least expects it, but seeing the long sweet line of Credence's leg lifted into the air as he carefully drags a little disposable razor along his baby soft skin makes Graves forget everything. The door bangs thoughtlessly against the wall.

Credence startles like a little doe. He sits up so quickly, water sloshes over the top of the tub and onto the tiles, his razor plopping into the tub unceremoniously.

“Baby,” breathes Graves, both delighted and awestruck. “What's this?”

Credence blushes a deep strawberry pink and says shyly, "It was supposed to be a surprise for you," in an earnest whisper. His arms come up around himself, bashful after all this time, but the boy from even just a few months ago wouldn't have pouted his plump bottom lip and softly complained, “Look at what you made me do!”

On the delicate skin of Credence’s knee, a small cut bleeds a little, running dark pink as a droplet of blood slides down Credence's leg and mingles with the warm water. Heartbreak surges through Graves, a sort of devastation that could cause earthquakes, topple buildings, and rattle the sky.

“Oh, princess,” Graves says mournfully as he slides to his knees beside the tub, uncaring of his trousers soaking with the water on the floor, “I'm so sorry.”

Credence gives the sweetest little laugh, twining wet, pruney fingers through Graves’ tie. “It's just a little nick, Percival,” he says, as Graves bends to kiss his neck sweetly. “I didn't really mean that. It's alright.”

Graves frowns, reaching into the tub to swipe up the razor. “These are too cheap to be using, baby,” he mutters, frowning. “And what are you using to shave?”

“I didn't want to waste your shaving cream,” says Credence bashfully. “It's too expensive. Soap works just as well.”

“That won't do, princess,” Graves purrs, something dark and prideful rumbling in his chest when Credence blushes softly. “We're going to have to do something about this.”

...

Graves books him an appointment at the best spa in Hollywood the very next day and drives a blushing Credence to the front doors with the promise to pick him up after the session.

Graves spends the next several hours making idle circles around the area, the heatwave making him sluggish and antsy. His dark shades and tinted windows are useless against the hot glare. The summer day and wilting palms make Graves crave ice and sugar he doesn't normally indulge in, and he caves, pulling up to a fancy little coffee shop Credence would be delighted with at the end of the street.

Credence's eyes light up at the sight of the plastic cups in Graves’ hands when he picks him up, eagerly reaching for his sugar-loaded strawberry concoction. Graves trades the cup for a kiss, pulling his boy close in the middle of the street as his hand settles at his hip and squeezes possessively.

“I can't wait til we get home,” Credence murmurs against his ear, eyes dark with promise when he pulls away, soft lips wrapping around the straw of his frappucino.

The hollowing of his cheeks has Graves bussing Credence quickly into the car, nearly stomping on the gas as he pulls out of his parking space. He spends the drive home with one hand on Credence's leg, rubbing circles into the smooth skin of his inner thigh until Credence's breath comes in little stuttering whimpers and Credence is squirming, drink finished and forgotten in the cup holder.

Graves doesn't know who reaches for who first when they're finally in the foyer of their home, but all he cares about is the feeling of Credence's narrow body slotted sweetly against his as he presses his boy up against the entry wall.

The air in the house is like a refreshing douse of cold water compared to the soupy heat outside. As Graves kisses down the slim arch of Credence's neck while he strips his baby of his shirt, he can see goosebumps erupting from the chill where formerly fine hairs would've bristled. He groans and slides his hand down the soft, smooth belly, bare of the thin soft hairs that used to gather in a trail down Credence’s navel.

 _"Fuck_ ,” Credence gasps, and Graves' darling doesn't normally swear, but he's immensely proud every time he's able to draw that reaction from Credence.

“Did you have them get rid of everything?” Graves breathes against Credence’s ear, and he feels his boy shudder in his arms.

 _"Everything_ ,” whispers Credence, eyelashes fluttering. Graves kisses them softly, feels Credence’s delicate eyelid under his lips. Graves moves down to kiss that red full mouth finally, unable to resist, tasting bursts of whipped cream and sugar and strawberry as their tongues tangle together.

“How in hell did I get so lucky?” Graves groans against Credence’s throat when they finally pull away. An overwhelming urge to sink his teeth into the delicate white skin rises in him, swelling like a tidal wave until he finds himself sucking a mark into the hollow of Credence’s throat where the shape of his mouth will bloom darkly purple.

It's intoxicating to be able to do this, even if it's just for the summer, when they don't have to hide for two precious months. They have a handful of weeks where they can pretend they're in their own world, just the two of them, and Graves thinks he can get addicted to this.

“I’m the lucky one,” Credence gasps as Graves picks him up and carries him up the stairs. He nearly has a heart attack when Credence murmurs softly, “I love it when you spoil me,” and Graves vows Credence will never want for anything from that moment on.

Credence changes into his favorite cream negligee after a languid shower together, where Graves is unable to help himself as he traces reverent fingers over his boy’s skin, smooth and pale, pinking softly in the hot water. He runs his hands over the planes of Credence’s narrow chest, down the line of his willowy waist and the hairless dip of his groin, luxuriating in the feeling of smooth skin beneath his fingers.

Soft lips drag against Graves’ stubbly jaw as they move to the bedroom. After what feels like an eternally long day, he finally gets to spread Credence out atop the soft sheets of their bed.

Graves tries to pull Credence back when he slips out of his arms, placated only slightly when his little darling moves to straddle his lap, small hand gently pushing him back to lean against the headboard. The next few minutes are the most excruciating moments of Graves' life when he has to watch Credence slowly shift up the hem of his negligee, a slow torturous tease. His lovely boy keeps stopping and frowning in warning every time he reaches out to touch, batting away his hands playfully.

“Patience, Percival,” murmurs Credence and Graves has to clench his fists into the sheets to stop himself from grabbing.

His heart is beating out of his chest by the time Credence lifts his negligee up to his chest, and the little tease only smirks, slowly shifting the silk up as he smoothes his own hands along the ladder of his ribs. Inch by inch, newly smoothed skin is bared to Graves' hungry eyes. His mouth goes desert dry and his breath lodges in his throat as his eyes widen, and he can't take it anymore. Not with those silky smooth thighs and that pretty white belly and Credence’s plump pink cock right there in front of him.

With a low growl, Graves’ hands reach out to press possessive fingers against Credence's narrow hips to bring him closer, closer, closer and Credence laughs _._ Graves silences him with a hungry kiss, licking into the seam of his plush, red mouth to chase the familiar flavor of strawberries and cream as he pulls Credence even closer, any distance between their bodies feeling like an offensive gulf. Credence’s smooth chest slips against Graves’ thickly furred one, and Graves groans at the friction, feels Credence squirming in response.

“Percival, Percival,” he gasps, clinging to Graves needily. “I'm—it's—” There's a glaze to his expression, a desperation that Graves feels an answering need to soothe, to make everything better. “I'm so sensitive, now,” says Credence, looking like he's been struck by lightning, bewildered and thrilled.

“Don't worry, princess. I'll take care of you,” Graves murmurs, fingers sliding greedily over his boy’s soft thighs, slipping in between to feel the velvet heat of Credence's cock. “I'll always take care of my sweet boy.”

Credence keens at that, hips rolling, but Graves only takes him by the waist and turns him onto his belly, admiring where the long curve of his boy’s back slopes into the pretty pale swell of his ass. His hand passes gently down the hatch of old scars as he leans down, lips finding that wonderful place where wiry thigh becomes soft and plush and thick, his tongue flicking out for a small taste as Credence squeaks softly in protest.

“You never ask for this,” Graves murmurs sadly, spreading Credence's legs slowly, lazy with patience as tender, quivering pink is revealed to him. Credence's embarrassment is evident as his boy reaches back and attempts to cover himself. “But I want this all the time.”

“You shouldn't!” Credence gasps, always shy despite the many times Graves has made worship here, lavishing him with his tongue and turning him into a mewling mess. “It's—it’s _lewd.”_

Graves smiles fondly. “So I can kiss you here—” and he palms his boy’s soft groin, relishing in the little gasp that draws, “But not here?” His thumb gently slides over where Credence is softest, sweetest, babygirl pink, newly smoothed and hairless, and another sound, this one lower, more desperate, spills from Credence’s mouth. He can feel his boy trembling softly. “Baby, please.”

After a little bit more squirming, Credence nods. “O-okay,” he says, trying to sound begrudging, but his breathy voice gives away his desperation when Graves leans down to press kisses against the soft skin bared to him before flattening his tongue against the pink bud of his boy.

The first wet drag of his tongue has Credence shivering as he pushes back against Graves, keening softly as Graves slowly licks into him. Credence is already desperate for more as he rolls his hips with growing urgency, trying to find any sweet friction for his hard cock against the smooth sheets.  

“You're so good, letting me do this,” Graves murmurs into Credence’s softness. A bit of stubble on his jaw that Graves had missed shaving that morning scrapes against Credence’s tender skin and another sound, this one Graves has never heard before, spills from his boy’s throat.

“ _More!”_ Credence begs, back arching in pleasure, and Graves squeezes those soft thighs with his big hands affectionately, a heady pride coming over him at the thought that he could drive this precious thing into such a frenzy. More slow kisses, languid curls of his tongue, a thumb caressing the flared head of his boy’s cock, and Credence gasps happily, “Yes, yes!” It doesn’t take much for Credence to come with Graves’ tongue inside of him and his hand on his cock.

Unable to wait anymore and achingly hard, Graves reaches for the hem of the negligee and in his haste, he barely notices the sharp sound of fabric ripping until Credence sits up with a wide-eyed gasp. They both freeze, Graves uncomprehending as he stares at the scrap of silk fisted in his hand as he watches his darling blink back tears, the passion all but extinguished.

“You—you ripped it!” Credence says in shock. Graves sits up in a panic as Credence trembles, tears dripping down his cheeks in heartbreaking streams.

“Credence,” says Graves numbly as his baby sniffles and tugs the fabric out of his hands, clutching it to his chest like it's something precious. “Princess, I’m so sorry.”

Credence is not so much a hoarder as he is just irrationally sentimental. Despite the huge hidden section Credence has in Graves’ closet full of lingerie, he keeps the torn cream negligee and wibbles about mending it the whole night. He only settles down to sleep when Graves physically tugs him into bed and holds him close, whispering apology after apology until Credence finally calms and slips into an unsettled rest.

When Graves tries to buy him a new slip the next day, as close in design as he can find, Credence only wails louder, and refuses to throw away the old one.

“You don't understand, Percival,” Credence insists, his lashes dripping wet and eyes rimmed red. “It was the first one you bought me. You can’t replace it!”

 _Oh_. There's the stab of heartbreak again, one that comes every time he sees Credence unhappy. It's the sort of pain that will have Graves moving entire worlds to erase the frown on that beautiful face. Graves knows he can't replace whatever sentiment Credence is clinging onto, but the least he can do is make sure he has whatever his heart desires now.

...

The first time Graves takes Credence shopping, Credence barely wants to get out of the car. His eyes turn saucer-wide at the logo atop the storefront and sinks lower into his seat, shaking his head vigorously.

“They’ll know!” he insists ludicrously, even as Graves pecks his neck and cheeks and lips with swift little kisses that make him tremble. Credence’s cheeks are cherry red by the time Graves pulls away. “Percival, I _can’t!”_ He wriggles in his seat, thighs shifting uncomfortably, thoughtlessly tempting. “That’s—it’s private.”

“It still will be, princess,” Graves reassures him, charmed by Credence’s little pout. “I’ll bring you all of the panties and garters you want, baby, all you have to do is stay in the dressing room.”

Credence chews on his lip, looking down shyly at his nails, glossy with a fresh manicure from his spa visit. “You promise?” he whispers, looking up at Graves with big dewy eyes.

Graves smiles and kisses his baby’s soft mouth. “Promise.”

The “good afternoon, Mr. Graves,” they're greeted with nearly has Credence balking and running back out the door again, if not for the firm press of Graves' hand at his lower back.

“They _know_ you?” Credence whispers in an urgent panicked hiss, even as his awe-filled eyes rove the black and gold art deco walls lined with racks upon racks of lace and silk.

“Where do you think I've been getting all your pretties, darling?” Graves purrs against Credence's ear, feeling him shudder softly.

“I don't know,” Credence admits as he's led into a dressing area, with a long black curtain at the far end. It is a wide room with ornate mirrors stretching from floor to ceiling and a long lush couch pushed against one wall. “Certainly not from a place like this.” He looks around, awestruck at the decadence of the dressing room. “This is so beautiful.”

“Only the best for my darling.” When Graves kisses Credence, so do four other Graveses, his reflections moving with him.

“That’s a bit weird,” says Credence when Graves pulls away, eyes fixed to the mirrors around them. Graves laughs and kisses Credence again, before slipping out into the main store where his favorite sales associate already has piles of suggestions in her arms, everything from garters and bralettes to velvet robes.

“Is that him?” she asks, eyes sparkling. “The one you buy all these for?”

Graves smirks and raises a finger to his lips as he eyes the bundle of lace and satin. She manages not to squeal too loudly as she scurries off to help another customer.

Graves hums as he skims through the small pile of lingerie, but he trusts her judgement, and he brings the whole set to Credence, who is still fully dressed as he stares wonderingly at the opulence surrounding him. He’s holding a small glass of golden champagne in one hand, still full to the brim.

“Percival,” Credence whispers urgently as Graves steps into the dressing room. “They gave me champagne! What kind of lingerie store is this?”

“The finest,” Graves says happily, taking the champagne flute from Credence and handing him the pile of lingerie. “I only want you to have the best.” He steals a sip, watching his princess handle soft dove-grey panties with delicate lace filigree across the waistband.

Credence gasps when he turns the price tags over with his fingers, turns wide-shocked eyes up to stare at Graves. “Percival,” he says, voice edged with nerves and his pink tongue flicks out to wet his lips, “I _can’t_. These are so expensive.”

Graves smiles, endlessly fond. “Credence, don’t worry so much. The price doesn't matter if you like it.”

Credence huffs a little, still shaken by the numbers. “But. But, still. Don’t—I’d be just as happy with anything from Victoria’s Secret, you know that. Don’t you?”

“Of course I do,” says Graves, taking Credence’s hand in his as he sits next to his princess on the couch. He kisses the soft knuckles slowly, watching a dull flush rise to Credence’s cheeks. “But I would rather give my baby the best.”

“You don't have to,” Credence repeats in a low whisper, even as his grip on the lingerie becomes covetous, possessive.

“I want to,” Graves counters boldly. He lounges back against the couch, smiling slowly. “It's just as much a present for me as it is for you, so please, princess, indulge me.” He nudges Credence softly until he nods, shy and flushed.

“Can you help me?” Credence asks, suddenly coy as he stands and steps between Graves’ casually open legs, fluid in the way that only happens when Credence is feeling particularly playful.

“Of course, darling,” Graves says hoarsely, settling his half drained champagne on the side table and standing to help Credence lift his shirt and step out of his jeans. It’s always half-torment, half-pleasure to strip Credence, to see all of that pearly skin revealed to him, so close and so tempting. That is especially true now, knowing that he won’t be able to touch the way he wants.

Credence is dewy-eyed, cheeks ruddy with passion and shyness both, his belly and chest heaving as he breathes when Graves’ hands find the sweet dip of his waist, fingers sliding appreciatively against smooth skin. Graves has to look away for a moment so he doesn’t drag his boy into his lap and ravish him mindlessly.

A softly spoken “Percy,” draws his eyes back to his boy and his breath doesn’t just catch in his chest, it strangles, and wheezes out of him in an idiotic cough.

 _Right_ , Graves has to let go, but trying to ever stop touching any part of his boy is always a challenge, much less when he's standing before him in the nude. Credence gives him a knowing look when Graves finally steps back and with a small smirk, disappears behind the curtain with his piles of lace and silk, hips rolling with a purpose that wasn’t there before.

“Minx,” Graves mutters to himself, and he hears a soft laugh as Credence calls to him, “I heard that!” through the curtain. And there’s the overwhelming fondness, the love that seems to strangle at the best of times.

The seconds seems to stretch into hours, impatience making Graves restless as he drinks Credence’s forgotten champagne and taps his fingers on the glass side table, bubbles gathering in his stomach in brilliant pops.

“Close your eyes,” comes from behind the curtain, a shy little demand that Graves has a very large problem obeying.

“You’re torturing me, princess, you know that?” he growls, but his eyes flicker shut, because this, like everything, is for Credence. Agonizing seconds later, he's told he can open them, and the vision that stands before him is nothing short of heartstopping.

Credence is standing before him dressed in the dove-grey lacy set, translucent fabric doing little to cover much of anything. Graves can see the outline of his soft pink nipples through the sheer panels of the bralette and the outline of his cock through the tiny panties, clingy and soft. And when Credence gives a tiny little spin, oh. The fabric rolls high over the soft swell of Credence’s ass, little more than a scrap of lace between his cheeks, making him look even more tempting than expected.

“Darling,” Graves manages to croak. “You…”

“Is it too much?” Credence whispers tremulously. His bottom lip plumps up as he pouts. “I don’t know—it’s very _revealing.”_

Graves stands, crosses the little space between them, gathers Credence up in his arms until he's pressed warm and soft against him, and kisses him so long and languid that the air in the dressing room grows hot and thick like fog. “No,” Graves replies when they separate, “we're definitely taking this one.”

Credence looks down, eyelashes pressed against his cheekbones. There’s a shy, almost prideful pleasure making him smile, a smile Graves would do anything to keep on Credence’s plush mouth. Fingers grip Graves’ shirt lightly but firmly, a possessive little gesture that makes Graves want to _devour._

“Good,” says Credence quietly. “Hand me the next one?”

The next piece is another transparent slip embroidered in tiny pink satin flowers that Graves decides Credence must have as well. And the black dressing robe after that, with the matching garters and stockings, so short it barely skims the top of Credence’s thighs, flashing more lace when he walks. And a gorgeous pastel pink garter and panty set that softens Credence’s edges, making him into something delicate and floral and so very, very sweet.

Graves’ desire to just push Credence against the nearest wall and have his way only increases with every little spin and hint of lace and flare of satin.

“I love all of them,” says Credence adoringly, gathering the latest burgundy negligee in his hand. “God, Percival. They’re so _pretty.”_ He stands onto his tiptoes in his delight, sighing happily, not knowing Graves is vividly picturing him in high heels and imploding over the mental image.

Graves is only stopped from reaching over and grabbing at Credence's hips when the sales associate peeks her head through the door and asks cheerfully, “How's everything?”

“We'll take all of it,” Graves says hurriedly, voice a hoarse low scrape _._

Credence gives a low squeak and dives for the curtain, face stained like a cherry in his embarrassment.

“Don’t worry,” the associate says, still obnoxiously happy. “I’ve seen it all, nothing to be shy about!”

But the damage has been done and it takes Graves ages to coax Credence to get dressed and come with him to the counter. Even still, Credence has his eyes firmly fixed to the floor and the permanent color in his cheeks darken when the same associate smiles at them widely on their way out and chirrups, “Have a good day!”

…

Graves somehow manages to last through dinner at their favorite restaurant but it's a near thing. Credence's coy little looks and fluttering lashes do nothing to help the heat welling up in his belly, but he somehow sits through their meal without any touching.

The temptation to go straight home is strong, knowing that Credence is wearing the tiny little dove grey number underneath his soft cotton shirt that shifts open with every movement to flash tempting slivers of pale lace. Graves somehow even manages to keep his hands to himself on the drive home. Credence is almost pouting and looks slightly disappointed by the time Graves finally breaks and all but drags him up to their room.

“Percival!” gasps Credence, delighted, wrapping arms and legs around Graves tightly. “You were so good,” his boy murmurs, squirming happily. “You didn’t even slip your hand under my shirt to feel my bra! I’m so proud of you.”

Graves manhandles his princess onto the bed, dragging his hips forward despite Credence’s soft little squeaks of protest. “The entire time we were eating,” Graves rumbles, yanking off Credence’s shirt too hard, buttons popping everywhere, “All I could think about was following you into that nice bathroom and backing you into a stall. I wanted to open you up with my fingers, and make my baby whine so loud everyone in that goddamn restaurant would know what was happening to you, what I was doing to you, as I fucked you against the sink, so you can see how beautiful you look in the mirror.”

Credence gasps as his bralette is gently peeled away from his chest and Graves kisses at his soft pink nipples reverently, sucking a little purple love note above his heart.

“Wait!” Credence says suddenly, urgently pushing Graves away, and Graves feels as though he’s been doused in cold water. “Since you were so good all day, you deserve a treat,” Credence says, mouth curved in a wide feline smile.

And before Graves can snap out of his surprised stupor, Credence squirms out of his arms and hops off the bed, grabbing one of the shopping bags from their trip as he disappears into their bathroom.

“ _Fuck,_ ” Graves gasps, flopping back onto the bed. “Don't _do this_ to me, princess!” he growls and the only reply he gets is the faint sound of Credence's amused laughter.

It feels like Credence takes an interminably long time, shuffling around in the bathroom, and Graves nearly loses his tenacious grip on patience. He contemplates the best way to take the door down as he stares up at the ceiling. After an eternity and a half, finally, _finally_ , the door of the bathroom opens and Graves sits up so fast his head spins.

He thinks he must’ve died and gone to heaven waiting for Credence when he finally sees his princess. He’s dressed in his soft pastel panties and bralette with slinky stockings clipped to his new garter belt, the soft curves of his hips and waist accentuated by the lines of lace and chiffon. Graves only realizes vaguely as Credence walks over to him with a languid sway to his hips that his boy has also put on _heels_ and yes, Graves is definitely dead now.

Credence takes his hand as he steps between Graves’ splayed legs and does a little turn, just like he had done in the store’s dressing room. Graves chokes on nothing at the sight of Credence's back, the soft curve of his ass bared by the cut of his panties and framed by a little bow at the dip of his waist.

Graves feels as though he's in a trance, hypnotized by his boy, barely able to react as Credence smiles and straddles his lap. And then Credence is unbuckling his belt as Graves is tugged in for a kiss that's all tongue and soft gasps while nimble fingers make quick work of his pants as he struggles impatiently out of his own shirt. The curl of Credence's hand around his hard cock is the best and worst kind of torture as it works slowly down his length.  

“Princess, _princess_ ,” Graves gasps, completely at the mercy of his boy as Credence shushes him gently. He can feel the live wire skips of pleasure dancing across his skin as Credence's thumb presses against the slit of his cock, spreading his precome around the head.

Before Graves realizes what's happening, Credence is rising up on his knees and pulling aside his panties and sinking down on his cock with a shuddering moan, pink-tinted pleasure flashing behind Graves’ eyes in his shock. The sensation of his cock being engulfed in tight, slick heat is almost too much, coupled with the realization of exactly why Credence had taken so long in the bathroom.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Graves growls, his fingers bruisingly tight around Credence's rolling hips. “Were you preparing yourself for me in there, baby?”

Credence nods, lips still curved in that tempting smile as he rolls his hips down again and leans in close. “Wanted to have you in me as soon as possible,” he gasps against Graves’ ear, “so I opened myself up on my fingers. I wanted to just be able to sit on your cock as soon as I came out. I waited all day for you,” he adds with a soft whine, reaching down to tug Graves’ hands up to press against his chest.

“Jesus _fucking_ Christ,” Graves says, the breath knocked out of his chest. He smoothes his hands over the tiny translucent bralette that does nothing to hide the hard peaks of Credence's nipples, pinching at the little buds through the fabric as his boy tilts his head back with a gasp, pale throat bared in offering. His baby clenches up around him, a sweet hot pressure gripping his cock.

“Percival,” Credence sighs, bouncing in Graves’ lap with his head thrown back and his fingers clutching at Graves’ shoulders desperately. “You—you feel so good!”

Graves nuzzles at Credence's neck, and he can't help himself from grabbing his boy’s hips and stilling him so Graves can thrust his hips up once, twice, three times, feeling Credence tremble sweetly around him.

“Percy no!” Credence gasps, but before Graves can release him in panic to ask what's wrong, Credence protests, “I’m supposed to be doing the work!” He's pink with pleasure, his cock peachy pink against his belly where it peeks up over the panties, and Graves feels that urge to just _ruin,_ to leave Credence a squirming mewling mess on the bed.

Graves fucks up into his baby once more, feeling his cock slide against the swollen little bud that makes Credence keen and his thighs shake. “You're so good for me,” Graves croons as he lies back and watches Credence through half-closed eyes. “Go ahead, sweetheart.”

Credence smiles, the soft light haloing his edges into something gentle, something innocent. Graves nearly chokes when Credence begins to move again. It’s almost too much, the sight of his princess and the tight heat of him filling all of Graves’ senses, and the soft little _sounds_ Credence is making are driving him crazy. He wants nothing more than to grab him by the hips and flip them over so he can just fuck into him with harsh wanting thrusts, but he’d promised to let Credence take charge.

The slow rolls of Credence’s hips and his languid movements has Graves squeezing hard at the curve of his ass, unable to help himself as he brings his boy down harder on his cock, smirking up at the half-hearted glare Credence directs at him. He doesn’t know how much longer he can last with Credence looking like that, with the soft slick heat of him surrounding his dick, and the sound of his boy’s panting gasps against his ear. But soon the ripple of Credence’s hips and stomach grows slower, more sluggish, and Graves smirks to himself through the pleasure as the sound of his princess’s keens grow louder, more desperate.

“Percy!” Credence whines, kissing at Graves’ throat, movements lazy and slow in the best of ways.

“I know, baby,” Graves murmurs, wrapping his hands around those soft thighs. He picks Credence up and gently lays him down on the bed, relishing in the surprised little moan and the short gasps tumbling from Credence’s lips with every stuttered thrust of Graves’ hips. “I’ll give you what you need, princess.”

This time, Credence doesn’t protest as Graves does the work, mewling piteously as a kitten as he clenches softly around him, and Graves must be in heaven.

This boy isn’t real, hasn’t come into his life in a whirl of lace and happy laughter, is out there somewhere on someone else’s arm, laid out on someone else’s bed. He pushes that thought away before he can think too much about it because Credence is _his_ , and he’ll be damned if Credence ever ends up with anyone else.

And Credence, his beautiful, beautiful boy is arching up against his chest, his low cries of “More, more!” draw Graves back into himself. The little sounds make him thrust harder, faster, deeper until Credence is spilling thickly against his own silk-smooth tummy as Graves pins him down and follows him, dark bliss nearly blinding him.

In the aftermath, Graves rolls onto his back, panting hard. Credence is cuddled up happy and sated against his chest, eyes half-lidded and weighed with sleep as he reaches up and drags Graves into a languid little kiss.

“Good?” Graves murmurs, and that triggers a little flood of laughter, Credence pressing his smile against the crook of Graves’ neck.

“Excellent,” Credence corrects on a soft sigh, sleepiness making him relaxed and soft.

Graves runs his fingers through Credence’s sweat damp curls as he kisses his temple and murmurs, “I know I can’t replace the memory of your first slip but we can make new, happy memories, can’t we?”

Credence nods sleepily, burrowing deeper against Graves’ chest and murmurs, “yes, we can. But Percival,” he adds softly, biting at his bottom lip, “you don't have to always buy me new things. I'm happy with what I have. I'm happy even if I don't have any of this. I would be happy with just you.”

Graves wonders what he's ever done in this life or the last to get so lucky, to have someone as precious as Credence to call his. He tightens his arms around his boy and presses another kiss to his temple.

“I know, baby,” he says. “But I want you to have everything you want, especially anything that helps you feel more like yourself. I just want you to be happy.”

Credence leans up a little, his eyes bright as he blinks them fully open, lips curved in a gentle smile. “I'm always happy when I'm with you, Percival.”


	2. Year 2

2.

Credence’s birthday lands on a Tuesday in early July, and Graves has never been more prepared for anything in his life, not even for the bar.

He had known for months exactly what he would give Credence for his special day, had planned a weeklong celebration where he would endlessly spoil his boy. He had thought about taking a trip to get away from the city and go somewhere quiet and relaxing, just the two of them, but of course life would get in the way.  

In the month before Credence’s birthday, the entire firm had been hectically preparing for a significant trial and the planning for Credence’s birthday had been forced to the wayside. Graves gets swamped with work, with endless papers and details to review and countless tasks to oversee.

Graves hadn’t been home as often as he would’ve liked and when he _is_ home, he’s passed out from exhaustion, trying to catch up on sleep. Oftentimes, he doesn’t even make it up to their room, crashing on the couch so not to disturb Credence’s sleep when he gets home past midnight. Graves would wake in the mornings to find a blanket draped over his shoulders and his boy curled up asleep in an adjacent armchair.

Now Graves has the chance to make up for all of that, by giving Credence the best birthday possible, even better than the last they spent together. His partners had been displeased with his decision to take the day off but there was no chance in hell he was going to miss Credence’s birthday for anything.

Graves had even left work early the day before, taking a drive out to Beverly Hills to visit one of the shops. He leaves the store with a small red box containing a ring he’d spent hours deliberating over that sits heavy in his pocket for the entire drive home. The weight is only lifted slightly when he sees Credence curled up on the couch watching his favorite show, turning when he hears the door to offer Graves the most beatific little smile.

With Tina traveling for the summer before she starts her university classes, it’s all too easy to fall into the cute little domestic fantasy that he and Credence are building together. It fools his mind into thinking this can be something permanent, as though Credence isn’t really half his age, as though they aren’t secreting each other away from their families and friends, as though he can really have this, have Credence forever. That must’ve been what fueled the madness that drove him to buy the ring, but he loves Credence so fucking much, it’s bordering on obsession, and he thinks if Credence says no, he might actually die.

Graves lays awake for most of the night in the company of his own ugly thoughts, thinking about the ring and thinking about their relationship. He should really be the responsible one. He’s more than twice Credence’s age, something he can never forget or disregard because the world sure as hell wouldn’t let them get away with it if anyone knows about them.

It kills Graves more and more every day to have had to hide Credence away, the entirety of their relationship shrouded in secrecy, but now maybe, with Credence’s birthday, they won’t have to hide anymore. More than anything, Graves wants to show Credence off to the world, to shout from the roofs that this beautiful amazing boy chose _him,_ that they are happiest _together_.

But still, how would it be fair for Graves to give Credence a ring, and ask for so much? Credence’s life is only just beginning. He’s just starting college in the fall, for chrissakes, there’s so much ahead of him. He could do much better than an old man, no matter how much Credence thinks he might love Graves.

Sweet, beautiful Credence who knows all of Graves’ secrets, worries, and regrets, knows all of the things that keep him awake at night. But he doesn’t know this fear that constantly gnaws at Graves and fills his head with visions, the simultaneous fear of losing Credence and knowledge that he’s not enough.

Graves can see it—a handsome young man whisking Credence off his feet for better and more exciting things than someone like Graves could ever offer. Someone who has time for him, who doesn't spend days, nights, and weekends at work. Someone his age who shares his interests, who knows what he's talking about when he offhandedly mentions a new show or something he saw on the internet.

What can he offer Credence anyways? Money? Anyone can have money. Love? Anyone who’s ever met Credence loves him. His beating heart on a fucking silver platter? It’s not enough.

Maybe buying the ring was a mistake, Graves thinks, reality crashing over him like towering wave. Maybe this little fantasy world he’s built with Credence over the past two years is just that, a fantasy. A sweet little dream that’s about to come to an end.

Graves almost doesn’t wake up the next morning. He’d been tossing and turning the whole night, barely able to get more than a few blinks of sleep. He’s so fucking tired but he forces himself out of bed early, making sure not to wake Credence as he disentangles their limbs from beneath the cool sheets. He gently kisses away the little furrow of distress at Credence’s brow as he leaves.

Graves makes a whole fry up in the kitchen, crispy potatoes and sunny side up eggs the way his boy likes, the creamy sweet coffee Credence has a weakness for, cinnamon bread toasted and topped with fruit, all of his favorites. He sets everything on a breakfast tray and tiptoes back upstairs to their bedroom. Breakfast is laid on the nightstand as Graves leans over to wake his boy with soft, deep kisses that make Credence’s lashes tremble before finally lifting, eyes still sleepy but happy.

“Percy!” Credence says, voice catching in surprise, scrubbing at his eyes as if he expects Graves to disappear in a moment. _Shouldn't you be at work,_ goes unsaid as though Credence is afraid he really would disappear if he asks. “What’s—what’s all this?”

“Happy birthday, princess,” Graves murmurs, tilting up his chin so he can pepper soft kisses down that long neck and back up again to the mouth slack with wonder.

“You did all this for me?” Credence says wonderingly as Graves sets up the breakfast for him. Graves can hear Credence’s stomach grumbling loudly, and he laughs at Credence’s blush.

“Of course, princess.” He nuzzles Credence’s nose with his own, feels those long lashes bat against his scruffy cheek, soft like a butterfly’s kiss. “Today is your birthday. You only get the best.” Graves reaches under the skirts of the bed to retrieve a small box wrapped in blue paper and tied with a shiny silver bow. He offers it to Credence as he kisses at his curls, still sweet smelling and mussed from sleep.

Graves expects delight, maybe a soft gasp and a shy whispered “thank you”, maybe excitement and surprise at the gift, but he definitely doesn’t expect tears. They well up in hot, fat droplets in his princess’s eyes and Credence gives the most heartbreaking little snuffle as he presses his long fingers to his lips in shock, the sobs strong enough to make his chest shake.

“Credence,” says Graves, feeling panicked as he gathers his boy up in his arms, letting Credence burrow close as his narrow shoulders shake violently. “Baby, what’s wrong? Oh, god, Credence, please don’t cry. What’s the matter? Is it me? Please tell me.”

For a wild moment, Graves thinks he’s done something wrong. Maybe he should’ve gone bigger, gotten a little breakfast cake or something with eighteen candles? Maybe balloons? Maybe flowers? Maybe more of his favorite pretty things? Maybe a puppy? Credence loves dogs, Graves thinks frantically, but Credence is shaking his head insistently, sleep-mussed curls flopping into his eyes.

“It’s just—” Credence hiccoughs as he looks up, his nose and the rims of his eyes reddening mournfully, “I th-thought you forgot. You’ve been… been so busy with work and the Emerson case and—and—I just didn’t expect you would have time.”

Graves feels his heart crack and then melt as he brushes Credence’s tears away with his lips, laughing a little to hide the anger at himself that’s ballooning in his chest and sits heavy against his ribs.

Credence has every right to be upset with him. He's been gone more days and nights than not, crashing on the couch when he comes home past midnight and dragging himself back to work at the crack of dawn and working on weekends. It's no wonder his boy feels neglected. Graves is going to make up for it, as soon as the case is done, take some of his long overdue vacation days to spend time together, go on that trip he had wanted to take Credence on for his birthday.

Graves thinks again about the little box in his pocket, the one he hadn’t yet presented to Credence, and wonders again if it would be a good idea after all. He’s been so shitty lately, how can it be fair to give something like that to Credence when he can’t even make him happy?

“I’m so sorry, baby,” he murmurs into Credence’s ear. “I didn’t mean to neglect you like this. The last thing I ever want is for you to feel sad because of me.”

Credence smiles through his tears, giggling wetly when Graves thumbs at his bottom lip. “I should’ve known better,” he says, lashes damp and spiky from his tears. “I’m sorry I thought you would ever forget.” He gives Graves a kiss so soft and gentle, Graves is unwilling to break it, but when they finally part, Credence tilts his head inquisitively and reaches for the box.

“Should we eat first or should I open it?” Credence asks, eyes eager.

Graves hums playfully, gently pinching Credence’s hip, laughing at the little squeak he gets. “Whatever my baby wants,” he answers, “but I’m not sure if you would be able to eat anymore after opening your present.”

Credence gasps in mock indignation. “You can’t _do_ that to me, Percival, making the decision harder like this!”

Graves grins. “Well, if you get too distracted to eat, where will all my hard effort go? Let’s have breakfast and then you can open your present.”

Credence grumbles, but his feigned irritation quickly disappears once he finally digs in. It’s almost obscene the way Credence eats, lashes fluttering closed as he bites into a forkful of potatoes and moaning in pleasure at the first sip of his coffee. Any other day, Graves might’ve pounced and breakfast would be forgotten, but he restrains himself, steals a piece of cinnamon toast to keep his hands busy, and smiles when Credence offers him a forkful of egg.

“You're so sweet to me,” Credence sighs once he's finished, kissing Graves’ scruffy cheek. “Thank you.”

“It was my pleasure,” Graves murmurs, relishing the feel of Credence's soft lips against his skin. “C’mon, let’s open your present.”

Credence eagerly picks up the little box, undeterred by its size. Graves starts feeling anxious as he watches Credence carefully peel away the wrapping paper.

“You can just rip into it, Credence,” Graves says, biting down on his lip.

Credence huffs. “And ruin your work?” But he's smiling and it's an old argument they have every time Credence opens a gift, so Graves pushes down his eager impatience and watches his darling carefully fold the wrapping paper to the side.

Credence smiles bemusedly when he pulls open the little box and reveals Graves’ car keys, brows drawn up in confusion. “Percy, these are your keys—” Credence laughs at first, but then a sudden look of realization makes his mouth drop and his eyes blow wide. “You're giving—the Corvette?”

Graves smiles at his look of pure surprise. “It’s a young man’s car,” he murmurs as he leans in to kiss Credence’s mouth, slack with surprise. “Tina always said it was ridiculous.”

“But—!” Credence hasn’t moved from when he first opened the package, stunned. “But you _love_ the Corvette!”

Graves gives a deep laugh. “I do, baby, I do. But I love you far more, and I want you to have this.” He wrinkles his nose dramatically. “I can’t bear the thought of you having to take a _bus_ to your classes.”

Credence blinks in surprise. “Percy, lots of people take the _bus_ ,” he teases, but loops his arms around Graves’ neck all the same, lashes fluttering. He kisses Graves’ throat, humming happily, fingers still wrapped around the keys possessively. “I know how much the Corvette means to you,” he murmurs, voice thick with emotion. “I love my birthday present, Percival. So, so much.”

“So long as you’re happy, princess,” Graves replies, heart full to bursting, pulling Credence closer when he tips forward for another kiss, a soft sweet press of lips. “How ‘bout we go for a drive, and you can take the car for a spin?”

The light that flickers in Credence’s brightening eyes is enough to light the darkest of nights as he jumps up happily from the bed, keys clutched tightly in his fist. He tugs insistently at Graves’ hand, urging him to stand too, already bouncing on the balls of his feet, mouth curved in a wide grin of pure delight. Graves laughs and can’t help himself as he pulls his boy in for another kiss that Credence cuts short with a little laugh, “c’mon, Percy, let’s _go!”_

Despite the summer heat, Credence grabs his old letterman from the hall closet as they head out the door, draping it around his shoulders and looking quite ridiculous with the long hang of the jacket on top of his slinky tank top and ludicrously short shorts. Graves curls a possessive arm around his tiny waist as they head towards the garage, pulling him close. He only lets go to reach over to hold the driver door open for Credence.

Credence giddily bounces in his seat before reaching up to adjust the rear view mirror and the side mirrors. He places his hand on the steering wheel and tilts his head back against the headrest, turning to look at Graves for a long moment with a soft smile playing across his lips.

“You okay, baby?” Graves asks, voice feeling thick in his throat, overwhelmed by the happiness he sees in Credence's eyes.

“This is amazing,” Credence breathes, sounding awed and a little thunderstruck. “Thank you, Percival.” He leans over for a kiss, one that could've easily turned heated if Graves didn't have the self control to gently push him gently away.

“We’re never going to get out of the garage at this rate, Credence,” he says, mock-sternly.

Credence laughs, delighted and happy before shifting the gear into first and pressing the button for the garage door.

“You sure you got the hang of stick, babe?” Graves asks teasingly.

Credence gives him a narrow-eyed look before breaking into another sunny smile. “I had the best teacher,” he replies primly as he pulls smoothly into the drive. “Who taught me for months without telling me this secret,” he adds with a pout and Graves smirks in reply, unrepentant. “So where are we going, Percival?”

Graves pretends to think for a moment. “Take a left down the block for now, and keep going until we reach the highway.”

Credence eventually catches on at the exit, shooting Graves an amused look when he turns onto the correct road. “Really, Percy?”

“Our first dance,” Graves smiles as Credence parks at the scenic outlook.

“This place looks so different during the day,” Credence says, wide-eyed as he looks around the clearing that overlooks the edge of the valley spread before them.

In the bright daylight, Graves can clearly see the overgrown scrub and long grass at the edge of the gravel and the tarnished crooked metal beams of the safety fence. More importantly, he can see the clear cerulean blue of the sky above the horizon, not a cloud in sight, the Los Angeles skyline a blurry haze in the afternoon sunglow. The outlook is tiny and dingy, but it holds meaning for them both, and Graves had always wanted to bring Credence back.

“Not quite as magical in the daytime,” Graves admits sheepishly, wondering if it had broken the magic of one of his most treasured memories of them together by bringing Credence back during the daytime without the promise of glittering stars above and glowing halogen lights below.

Credence hums a little, already unlocking his door and sliding out of his seat. He doesn’t wait for Graves as he walks up to the edge of the overcrop, already peering into the city below. Graves follows after him, would’ve followed him to the edge of the world.

“This is a different kind of magic,” Credence replies, the smile on his face soft as he pulls Graves close by the hand. “It’s good to see this during the day too.”

Graves feels a small burst of relief as he releases a breath. “Good. I was worried for a second there.”

“Percival,” sighs Credence, turning to face him. “I'm happy any place I go with you.”

Graves coughs to try and hide how pleased that makes him, but judging by the brightness of Credence's eyes, he must have failed miserably. He coughs again and allows himself a small smile as he looks back at his beautiful boy. “Happy birthday, princess.”

Credence smiles back happily, tugging Graves into a loose embrace. “Thank you. This is already the best birthday I've ever had.”

“Wait till you see your cake,” Graves answers with a wide grin. “We’re going to go somewhere nice for dinner. Maybe to your favorite restaurant if you like, or we can order in, or we can—”

Credence halts his stream of suggestions with a chaste kiss, laughing as he pulls away. “We can decide all that later, Percy, but for now let's enjoy this place. Thank you for bringing me here again and thank you for everything.”

Graves reaches for Credence's hand to bring up to his lips, pressing soft kisses against his knuckles and palm. “I want you to be happy always, princess. I never want you to ever want for anything. If I can provide it, it's yours. I love you so much.”

Graves steps away a little and moves towards the maw of the valley, gently pulling Credence along until they're up against the edge of the safety rails. “I remember promising you last year when we first came here that I was going to yell from the mountains how much I love you the second we didn't have to hide anymore,” he says, grinning as Credence's eyes widen in surprise.

And before Credence can protest, Graves yells into the plunge of the cliff and the city below, “ _I fucking love Credence Barebone!_ ” laughing when he sees a warm pink flush creep up his boy's cheeks.

It feels liberating to be able to do this, even if no one actually heard him, to finally be able to scream how much he loves Credence. Maybe soon, they can even tell their friends. Maybe they can tell Tina and pray and beg for her understanding and blessing.

“Percival,” Credence says softly pulling him back from the rails, eyes saucer-wide and face flushed cherry red. “You didn't have to do that. You huge sap.”

“I wanted to,” Graves replies. “I've wanted nothing more than to be able to tell everyone how much I love you and now I can. We don't have to hide anymore.” He raises a hand to cup Credence's cheek, thumb swiping gently across the crest of bone as tears begin to slip from his eyes. “I love you, Credence,” Graves repeats. “So fucking much.”

Credence buries his face against Graves' chest and just breathes deep shuddering breaths for a little while. “I love you too, Percival,” he finally says, and Graves releases the breath he didn't even realize he was holding.

Graves thinks now might be a good moment to reveal the box weighing down his pocket and kneel on one knee, but his breath lodges in his chest, suffocating and oppressive. Deep down, he knows the answer is very likely to be _no_ , no matter how much Credence thinks he might love him. After all, he’s so young, he’s only just turned eighteen, he can do so much better, he has his whole life ahead of him, and Graves’ mind is turning in whirlwind circles until—he can’t do it. He’s a coward. The box stays in his pocket.

They stand at the edge of the outlook for a long while, simply holding each other close.

When Credence raises his head again, his eyes are still bright with the last of his tears but his lips are curling into an impish smile. He stands on his tiptoes, sliding his fingers through Graves’ hair.

“When you first took me here,” Credence says softly, voice heavy with desire as he leans in close enough to press the words to Graves’ ear, “all I could think about was you fucking me in the Corvette. Me, in your lap as you ruin that horrible ill fitting tuxedo and mess up my makeup so everyone can see how you absolutely _ruined_ me.”

Graves could've died in that moment and he wouldn't have noticed, captivated by every blink of Credence's long lashes and the richness of his voice. “The whole time?” Graves asks, his voice sounding rough as he steps even closer.

Credence bites his lip, smiling as he nods. He takes Graves by the hand and starts leading them both back to the car.

“You know,” says Credence slowly, his wry smile curling the full curve of his lips as he settles in the driver’s seat, “this even looks like one of those secluded places where teenagers come to make out.”

Graves can't help the undignified snort that escapes him. “I'm hardly a teenager, sweetheart.”

“No,” Credence agrees, hands already reaching over to work at Graves’ zipper. “But I am.” And without much more fanfare, he unzips Graves and wraps his hand around his rapidly hardening cock. With another mischievous quirk of his lips, Credence bends over the car seat until he can take Graves in his mouth and swallows him down to the root.

Graves’ hips jerk up involuntarily as he gasps in surprise but Credence takes him in expertly. Even just a few months ago, his boy might've pulled off, overwhelmed, but to think now how well Credence can suck his cock and how quickly he can bring him to the edge now, Graves cannot help but feel a warm glow of pride in his chest. He's so proud of his princess. He’s so privileged to be the one who taught his beautiful darling, who is staring up at him from beneath long wet lashes, cherry red lips stretched obscenely around him.

“Fuck,” Graves sighs as his head tips back against the headrest and his hands move to tangle in Credence's curls. “You're so good to me, princess,” he murmurs, sitting up again to watch as Credence's cheeks flush pink with pride.

He watches in disbelief as Credence hollows his cheeks around him, hands moving down to work at his own zipper, pulling down his shorts and panties in one motion in spite of their cramped quarters. Graves moans as Credence pulls away with a wet _pop_ , replacing his cock with two of his own fingers and reaching back to work himself open.

Graves remembers at the last second despite the fog of lust that clouds his mind from any form of higher thinking. He reaches over to pop open the glovebox and unashamedly pulls out a small tube of lubricant, watching as Credence’s eyes light up.

“You think of everything,” Credence sighs as he climbs across the console onto the passenger’s seat with Graves. He settles on Graves’ lap, flushing the most beautiful shade of peachy pink when a dollop of slick is poured onto his fingers. Graves can’t help but thicken at the lewd, wet little noises Credence’s fingers make as he slips them back inside his tight heat.

“Please, princess,” Graves growls gently, desperately wanting as his fingers grip bruises into Credence’s thighs.

It’s the prettiest picture Graves has ever seen, Credence wearing his jacket with his name, head thrown back with the long creamy line of his throat bared for Graves as he sinks down on his cock, keening softly. Graves feels the hot clench of heat around him grip in tandem with the vise around his chest.

Looking up at Credence who is so beautiful above him, Graves knows there will never be anyone else ever again. How he wishes he could give Credence his name, make him his forever, and he could, he could, he only has to reach into his pocket, pull out the little red box, and _ask_. But Graves doesn’t ask, not even when Credence whispers, “I love you, Percival,” against his lips as he comes, not even when he replies with his own sentiment as he fills Credence, not even when the question threatens to tear its way out of his throat.

Later, after they’re home and Credence has blown out all of the eighteen little candles on his strawberry frosted cake and they’re full on good food and champagne and sugar, Credence tucks himself up against Graves in bed and whispers, “Thank you, Percival. I had the best day. I wish we could be like this forever,” and Graves’ heart _aches,_ pounds with the need to just _ask_.

He kisses the top of Credence’s head as he curls tight around his boy. Credence arches up against him sweetly as though he can’t bear to be parted from him, can’t stand to be even the slightest bit apart. He blinks up at Graves from beneath sleep-heavy lashes and smiles softly before closing his eyes.

Graves loves him with an intensity that _hurts_. He thinks again about the red box and decides, one day.

Months later, on a Christmas night when Credence says yes, and Graves feels like the happiest fucker to ever live, his one regret will be that he didn’t ask sooner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :)


	3. Year 3

3.

Graves can't do it, there's no possible way he can hope to achieve the impossible. It’s simply a task that cannot be done.

How in hell is he expected to fit the enormity of how much he loves Credence into a couple of paragraphs? He can spend entire lifetimes waxing lyrical and writing poetry on how he feels about his beautiful, lovely Credence and it would still not be enough, much less anything he is trying to say in a handful of sentences.

Graves stares at his half-written vows until his eyes cross and still the words would not come. He sighs and tosses the chicken-scratched page into the waste paper bin with the rest and starts anew. He comes up with another handful of sentences before he stops yet again, stumped and unable to continue.

He should have stolen Credence away when he had the chance. He should've flown them back to Puerto Rico to have their own little wedding on the beach, just the two of them, surrounded by ocean and sand and salt air and endless sky. They only need each other, all of this pomp and ceremony is superfluous at best, and Graves would have done it. Would've flown them back to paradise to make Credence his wife if he didn't know Tina would murder him.

Graves puffs out a frustrated breath, raking his fingers through his hair as he tosses away yet another attempt at his vows. He jumps when a sudden rapping at the door interrupts his train of thought.

“I get that you're having some sort of crisis over finally getting hitched,” says Seraphina wryly from the doorway, “but could you do it on your own time?”

“Did I say you could come in?” asks Graves grumpily, but he doesn't protest further when she moves to sit primly across the desk from him.

“No, but my name’s on the building, so I have access to all and everything inside,” she says smugly.

“My name’s on the building too and you don't see me invading other people’s privacy,” Graves mutters to himself as she crosses her legs and gets comfortable. “Did you have this much trouble writing your vows to Betty?”

“You know very well we eloped to Las Vegas,” Seraphina laughs, waving a hand at him. “Vows were the last things on our minds.”

“Very helpful, Sera, thanks,” Graves sighs, removing his reading glasses and pinching the bridge of his nose. “So what do you want from me?”

“Are you this rude to your boy too, or am I just special?” she muses sarcastically as she slides a file across his desk. “I need you to double check these over lunch.”

He grabs the file from her and flips through the papers, barely glancing at the endless pages of jargon he's in no mood to read at the moment. “Why isn't an associate looking over this? I have other shit to do, Sera.”

Seraphina taps a perfectly manicured nail on one of the sheets and makes a _tsk_ ing noise before glaring back at him. “Remember the last time your intern did one of these files? Even your paralegals didn't catch the mistake until it was nearly too late, and we could've all been royally fucked because of one wrong number in the address. So _please_ , Percival, double check your people's work.”

Graves groans and feels the overwhelming urge to bash his head against his desk. There are apparently never any competent interns. “Then Abernathy will look it over again during lunch. I have plans.”

“Plans?” Sera exclaims incredulously with an arched brow.

Before Graves can answer, there's another soft knock at the door as Credence lets himself into his office. His eyes widen when he sees Sera sitting at his desk and Graves has to bite back an affectionate smile at the startled look on Credence's face. He motions him into a seat, hoping they'll be able to leave for lunch soon and be done with this bullshit.

Sera is grinning widely at Graves when he turns his attention back to her. “I see,” she says, uncoiling herself from her chair. “Your plans are here so I won't keep you, but make sure Abernathy is extra careful with these. We can't afford another mistake like that.”

Graves sighs. “I know, Sera. Goodbye,” he adds, dismissing her.

Seraphina is all smiles as she walks towards the door, stopping briefly to greet Credence, who is still staring at her with wary trepidation. Graves can't hear what she whispers into his ear, but if the startled chuckle and soft blush on Credence are anything to go by, it can't be anything good. She doesn't give him time to interrogate her as she gives them both one last smirk and glides out the door.

Graves hurriedly shoves his half-written vows into his drawer as Credence sidles up to his desk, perching himself on Graves's leg. He pulls Credence close as his slim arms come up to curl around his neck, leaning in for a slow kiss.

“Hi,” Credence says, smiling brightly when they finally, reluctantly pull away.

“Hey, princess,” Graves says, kissing that long pretty neck. “God, you have no idea how happy I am to see you right now.”

Credence’s mouth tilts up in one corner. “Is it because of the papers Sera asked you to double check?”

Graves sighs. “Of course not just because I want to get away from paperwork. I’m happy to see _you_. You’re the best part of my day.”

“Mmhmm,” Credence hums, amused. “And you're the best part of mine.” He kisses Graves’ forehead with his soft pink mouth and Graves can't help it when his heart melts behind his ribs. He's so weak for his boy and in the matter of a few days, they’re going to be _married_. It's a realization that stuns him every time the thought crosses his mind. In just a few days, Credence is going to be all his. This beautiful amazing boy is going to _marry_ _him_.

“Percival?” Credence’s brow is creased with concern as Graves snaps back to reality and he can’t help himself when his arms tighten to pull Credence closer, until they’re pressed chest to chest and somehow that still doesn’t feel like enough. “Is something wrong?” Credence’s voice is tentative.

“Nothing, princess,” Graves replies, knowing his voice sounds thick. He is fooling no one, definitely not Credence who knows him so well. “Absolutely nothing. I’m just very happy to see you.”

“Me too,” Credence replies softly, squirming slightly in his lap. “I can't wait until I'm finally your wife.”

Graves’ voice is strangled when he's finally able to speak around the lump in his throat. “Yes, my beautiful _esposa_ , finally all mine.”

“Four more days,” Credence murmurs, smiling, as if that doesn’t seem like an eternity.

“Yeah,” Graves murmurs. “Only four more days.”

...

Graves’ panic about the wedding vows doesn’t just go away, even as he puts off writing them again and again. He feels as if he can never find a small moment to just focus on them with Credence always rushing in with a table seating chart or finalizing the menu or just to kiss Graves delirious before skipping gleefully away. The little minx.

He thinks about locking himself up in his home office more than once, especially as time is ticking down to the big day, just to be able to sit down and work on his vows. But one pout from Credence and he’s melting, unable to stay away. He often finds himself crowding Credence up against doors and tables for long kisses that end up destroying his productivity, until all he can think about is _Credence Credence Credence_. And how can he help it, when he’s about to _marry_ this gorgeous sweet boy. Graves didn’t even know he could love someone so much.

It finally hits him that this is real, the day is nearly here when Tina bangs the front door open at four in the morning on the day before the ceremony.

“Everybody better be decent!” she yells in the foyer, jerking Graves out of an all too vivid nightmare where he was standing alone at the altar watching helplessly as Credence ran off with some pimply college sophomore.

“We are,” Credence calls back sleepily. He reluctantly slides out of bed, shrugging on his petal pink robe as he hurries down the steps, Graves following close behind.

“Hi, Teeny,” Credence greets and Graves can’t help but smile widely as his daughter throws her arms around his fiancé and they squeeze each other tightly.

“It’s so good to see you!” Tina smiles brightly at them both, arching an eyebrow at Graves at where he’s grinning happily above them at the top of the stairs. “What’s with the face, Dad?”

“Nothing. Just glad to have the family back in one place,” he says fondly. He finally reaches the ground floor and grabs Tina up in a bear hug, ignoring her loud protests as he twirls her around with ease, Credence beaming at them both.

“Okay, Superman, put me down,” Tina finally grumbles and she staggers a little as Graves sets her back on her feet. “I feel almost offended for my preteen self who you claimed was too heavy to swing around. Where were these muscles ten years ago, huh?”

Graves shrugs, kissing his daughter’s forehead despite her mutterings. “Didn't have much motivation for exercise back then.”

“ _Gross_ , Dad!”

“It’s so good to see you, Teens,” Graves says with a wide smile.

“You too, Dad.” Tina’s about to say more when Newt staggers through the front door, laden with large luggages and duffel bags.

“Hi, Mr. Graves,” he says weakly as Tina scrambles to help him. “Um. Where exactly are we putting these?”

“Hi, Newt. Tina’s room is fine,” Graves replies. “I trust you know where that is,” he adds, unable to resist teasing the kid, who flushes a dull red underneath his many freckles and scurries up the steps.

“Dad, be nice,” Tina says, rolling her eyes as she follows him. “And, oh. The ‘No Sex While Tina is in the House’ Rule still applies. I’ve caught you both _way_ too many times and have seen _far_ too much. Please just wait until you’re on your honeymoon. It’s literally in two days.”

Credence looks up at Graves with betrayed eyes, but Tina just snaps her fingers to get their attention.

“No! Okay? No!” she says sternly.

“I’m going to disown you as soon as I marry Percival,” Credence mumbles.

Tina glares back at the both of them as she heads up the stairs. “Then who is going to do your makeup, Credence?” she says with a smirk as she disappears down the hall.

“Queenie!” Credence declares as she prances away. “Queenie will!”

The day passes in a whirlwind blur with last minute preparations and last minute panics with frantic calls to the caterers and florists to make sure everything is just right.

What had originally been intended to be a little ceremony with just family and close friends has somehow ballooned into a party for fifty, only because Graves is adamant that Credence gets the wedding he wants and he’s glad he did, because he would never deny Credence anything. It had broken his heart to see Credence timidly rejecting cakes and flowers Graves _knew_ he liked after seeing the price tags and debating over whether he should wear a dress or force himself in a tux he would hate.

After a lengthy discussion and some tears, Credence had finally agreed to stop worrying about the prices and other people’s opinions, shyly started choosing the things he truly wanted. Graves would give Credence the world if he could, and giving him the wedding he wants is but a small matter. It is to be _their_ special day, and all of their friends and relatives could shut it for one day so Credence can wear the wedding dress of his dreams. Graves would not hesitate to kick them out of the ceremony and reception if they were to have _any_ nasty things to say about it.

...

The morning of the wedding dawns bright and early, with yet more endless last minute preparations, and it isn't until they’re all sitting down for a quick lunch when Graves remembers he _still_ hasn’t finished writing his vows. With three more hours to the ceremony.

Before he knows it, they’re all being hustled to their separate rooms in the tiny church to get ready, Credence leaning in to steal one last kiss before they’re parted to make their preparations. Graves feels a heavy stress headache building between his temples as Credence leaves.

He’s fiddling with his cufflinks, submitting to Albus’ fussing over the knot of his tie as he worries. He scratches out a few thoughts on random bits of paper and napkins, thoughts that don’t make any sense when he reads them back and—

“Percival. Graves. You’ve got to calm down.” Albus’s soothing voice reels him back in, his friend quirking a brow as he looks up at him. “Honestly, you look like you’re facing down a firing squad instead of marrying the love of your life.”

“I didn’t write down any vows,” Graves says in a rush, growling at himself in frustration. “I didn’t have time—well, I did, but nothing I said was working. How am I supposed to fit all my love for Credence in a two minute speech, Albus, how does that make any sense?”

“As much as I hate to say it,” Albus sighs, exasperated, “Percival, you have nothing to worry about.”

“Excuse me,” Graves says, irritation making his voice sharper than intended, “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m getting married in two hours, and I have no vows. How is that not something to worry about?”

“Graves, you’re the most gushy, corny, romantic person I’ve ever met in my life,” Albus says baldly, finally shutting Graves up. “And you argue for a living. I’m sure you can think of something when you’re up there.”

“I don’t like ‘thinking of something when I’m up there’,” Graves argues, refolding his handkerchief for the fifth time before fitting it in back into his pocket. “I like being prepared. I don’t just ‘think of something when I’m up there’ when I’m presenting client cases,” he adds, feeling vaguely sick. “And Credence is far more important than any case will ever be.”

“That’s why you’ve been preparing for this day for three years. Not a month in advance, looking over some shoddy paperwork slapped together by interns.” Albus grins, clapping Graves on the shoulder. “I'm sure when you’re up there, you’ll know what to say.”

“You’re useless to me,” Graves tells Albus unashamedly. “Get out of here. Don’t you have some organ player to bother?”

“I brought a date,” Albus says mildly, “but you’re right. I’ll leave you alone now, I’m sure you’ll be able to think better with the quiet,” he says as he slips out the door.

Graves sighs and thunks his head against the mirror.

“Are you getting cold feet?” comes a soft voice from the door, and Graves whips around to see Credence smiling shyly from the other side of the room.

Credence steps in further, wrapped in the same silky pink robe he’d worn to greet Tina the day before but now he’s all made up for the special day, and Graves’ breath is punched out of him at the sight. His lashes look sinfully long curled with mascara, and his mouth is glossy and slick with a cherry red tint. There's a shimmery gold pop of color on his lids that make his eyes sparkle whenever he blinks.

“Never,” Graves sighs happily as he moves to take Credence in his arms. He smells sweet, like summer ripened strawberries in the morning. “God, you smell good.”

“Creep,” Credence says fondly. “But thank you. It’s a new perfume Teeny got me.” He doesn’t nuzzle into Graves’ chest like usual, probably wanting to preserve his makeup.

“I missed you,” Graves sighs, desperate to kiss Credence, but if he knows that if he smears any of the makeup, Tina will murder him and leave him for the buzzards. He settles for holding Credence against him, hands running along the familiar curve of his waist. “Isn’t there a dumb tradition or something where we’re not supposed to see each other before the ceremony?”

“It doesn’t count if you don’t see the dress,” Credence says, grinning cheekily.

“Still. Sneaking around like this.” Graves smirks. “What will the neighbors think?”

“That I love my husband very much,” Credence counters. “If it weren’t for this lipgloss, I’d be kissing you so hard right now.”

“Hmm…” Graves hums, smiling wider as he swoops in to press kisses along the underside of Credence’s jaw. “That’s too bad about the lipgloss,” he says, dragging his lips down Credence’s long neck, “because I would _hate_ to mess it up—” He barely finishes his sentence before Credence has both hands on the side of his face and is pulling him up for a wet, filthy kiss that most _definitely_ messes up the lipgloss. Graves groans into it, humming lowly as he tastes artificial cherries when his tongue flicks against Credence’s bottom lip.

Credence sighs when they part with a lewd little _smack_. His lipgloss isn’t so much smeared as it’s been licked clean off, his mouth swollen from being kissed so hard. “Yeah,” he says. “I’m so dead.”

“Me too,” Graves says, thumbing the edge of Credence’s cupid’s bow where there’s a smudge of wetness. “Mm. If you’re not wearing your dress, what do you have under this robe?”

“You wanna find out?” Credence murmurs, tugging a little on Graves’ tie.

“Maybe,” Graves whispers back, and that’s how they find themselves toppling onto an armchair in a respectable, fine little church with two hundred years of good, Christian history.

Graves is desperately working to unlace the bow at the front of Credence’s robe to reveal the most delicate, white filigree lingerie he’s ever seen. Credence is wearing a tiny white bra, the lace so intricate it's nearly transparent. A sheer skirt falls from his waist, too transparent to hide the bejeweled garter at his thigh that Graves wants to pull off with his teeth and the little lace panties holding the soft swell of Credence’s cock.

Graves’ hands itch, wanting to rip and tug and wreck, but he won’t, because this is their wedding day, and he would rather die than ruin this.

“Percival,” Credence gasps, locking his thighs possessively around Graves’ hips.

“Tina’s going to fucking kill us,” Graves mutters, uncaring as he grips Credence’s waist tighter to bring him down against his erection, one hand reaching up to slide beneath the lace of Credence’s bra to thumb at his nipple.

It’s too late to turn back anyways, they’re too far gone to stop because there’s absolutely no way Graves is going to stop, not with Credence grinding down against him and moaning so prettily against his cheek. Besides, it’s his goddamn wedding day, he can kiss his beautiful fucking wife as much as he fucking wants. Which is exactly what he does as he draws Credence in for another kiss, and another, again and again, each filthier than the last until they’re little more than slick hot presses of mouths and tongues.

And then Credence is sliding off his lap with a slow feline smirk and kneeling in front of the armchair. He stares unabashedly up at Graves with infinitely dark eyes as he works open his fly and Graves cannot believe it’s happening. That they’re actually doing this mere minutes before their wedding, in a _church_. He’s still disbelieving even when Credence swallows him down to the root, red-swollen lips stretched obscenely around the thick of his cock. He must’ve died and gone to heaven, he thinks frantically. He hasn’t been nearly good enough of a person to deserve this, to deserve Credence.

Graves wants to fist his fingers into Credence’s hair, slide his hands into the soft curls, but he’s already ruined his lipstick. Tina _and_ Queenie would definitely kill him if he messes up those intricate braids too. He settles for cupping his hand along the side of Credence’s jaw, thumb pressing lightly against his skin where he can feel his cock through Credence’s soft cheek.

“ _Fuck_ , princess,” Graves gasps as Credence reaches into the back of his panties to touch himself, and Graves can’t misinterpret it as anything other than Credence fingering himself wet and pink and open. “I don’t deserve you. You’re too fucking good for me. You’re the best fucking wife anyone can ever ask for—”

The door suddenly flies open, and there’s a shocked gasp from the doorway as Credence jerks away, flushing bright red and scrambling to zip up Graves’ trousers. Fucking _Newt_.

“O-oh, um,” Graves hears, and he sighs, not bothering to turn around in his seat. Newt can talk to his back if he’s going to so rudely interrupt them.

There’s a shaky intake of breath and an attempt at finding words before Newt finally stutters, “I—-oh, Christ. I guess Tina was right. That’s why she didn’t want to look for the both of you.” A tired-sounding sigh. Graves looks down to see Credence peering up at him with wide eyes, fingers pressed against his lips to stifle his giggles.

“Uh…” Newt continues, still hovering at the door. “I was sent by Tina to find Credence,” he finally announces. “So, Credence, please, if you would. T-the ceremony is in an hour and we need you to finish getting ready. Come along now.”

Credence, the little minx, is still trying to stifle his laughter, smiling lopsidedly as he leans his head against Graves’ knee. “Just give us a minute please, Newt. I’ll be along shortly, I promise,” he says sounding far more put-together than he has any right to; Graves can still barely breathe after everything.

“Okay, great!” Newt exclaims with overly bright enthusiasm as he leaves, but the bastard leaves the fucking door wide open.    

“Asshole,” Graves says unkindly under his breath, but Credence just presses his cheek to Graves’ thigh and muffles his giggles with his hand.

“He's just doing as he's told,” Credence murmurs once his laughter has passed. He rises, swaying a little, eyes glossy with arousal. He's a vision to behold, cock plump and full in his little panties and mouth obscenely swollen and wet. Graves can't help but reach out and cup his hips, squeezing possessively.

“Such a good wife,” he rumbles. “Taking care of me.”

Credence looks as if he could swoon, but a glance at the open door convinces him to find his little robe and get dressed despite Graves’ pleading eyes. He's already draping the robe back over his shoulders and pulling it shut before Graves can reach out and grab again.

“The next time we see each other, we're getting _married_ ,” Credence whispers conspiratorially as he leans in for a final kiss before slipping out the door.

...

Before he knows it, Graves is standing at the altar with Albus behind him and Sera at the podium, waiting eagerly for any glimpse of Credence. Graves thought he was ready, but as soon as the organ start playing, he finds a lump forming in his throat and his chest feels so tight, he can barely draw breath.

Tina walks in first, giving him a reassuring smile as she takes her place by the front, and then they’re all standing for the bride. As soon as Credence walks in, framed by the high arch of the door on the other end of the church, all the air leaves Graves’ lungs and his stomach plummets to his knees. It feels like the first time he’s ever seen Credence all over again, stunned speechless by his beauty. But this time, his boy is walking towards him to _spend his life with him_ , and that is enough to break and humble Graves.

Even if Graves had managed to write his vows, he would’ve forgotten every single word of it as soon as he sees Credence. He is breathtaking in white, the jewels embroidering the front of his bodice glimmering brightly in the warm light, offsetting the bright bouquet of soft succulents and peachy peonies held in his hands. The hem of his shift dress and long veil skim the church’s flagstone floors, making him appear as if he’s floating down the aisle, and Graves has the insane urge to walk up halfway to meet him and just whisk him away.

It feels like an eternity and a half before Credence finally reaches him. The familiar feeling of his hand sliding against Graves’ palm calms him slightly, the cool metal of Credence’s engagement ring reassuring. Tina has reapplied his lipstick, pink gleaming on his mouth like candy, and Graves has to fight the urge to just lean in and ruin it all over again as Sera clears her throat and starts the ceremony.

Graves is ashamed to admit that he hears none of the words he knows Sera spent months preparing for them. All he can do is just stare wordlessly into Credence’s beaming eyes, barely catching onto the tail end of Sera’s speech. Albus has to discreetly nudge him to start his vows.

Graves has never had performance issues. Like Albus said, he spends his career arguing in courtrooms for chrissakes, but here he is standing in front of the amazing boy he’s marrying, feeling tongue-tied and overwhelmed. He coughs a little, trying to find the words, but then Credence squeezes his hand.

He’s smiling patiently as Graves looks at him, and he suddenly knows what to say.

“I’ll admit it, I didn’t know what to write for my vows, so I didn’t write any at all,” Graves says, to the rippling laughter of the audience. “But ever since I first met you, Credence, I was completely and utterly gone on you. That’s an understatement. I’ve been completely besotted, and that’s never changed. My love for you has only grown the more I got to know you, and I’ve never known the kind of happiness I have when I’m with you. You make me want to be better. You’ve changed me for the better.” He takes a shuddery breath, throat growing tight.

“Credence, the reason I didn’t write my vows wasn't because I was nervous or scared or didn’t know what to say. It’s because I have _too many_ words on how much I love you and we’ll never get through all of them. But I would like to spend the rest of my life trying to tell you all of these things: how much I adore the way you curl up under the covers when you refuse to wake up in the morning. How beautiful you look with the sunlight against your skin when you sit reading by the windows. How much I physically ache when I have to be away from you, for even just a moment. How lucky I am just to have the privilege of being able to hold you every day.

“Credence, I vow to stand by you, through thick and thin, through sickness and health, through whatever may come, to always be by your side when you need me. I vow to strive to be a better man, so one day I might be your equal. I vow to love you for for as long as I shall live, to never take the love we have for granted, to love you unconditionally. I vow to be yours, now and forever. As I have given you my heart to hold, I give you my life to keep.”

There are tears streaming down Credence’s cheeks by the time Graves is done speaking, and he thinks he sees Abernathy in the third row dabbing at his eyes with a handkerchief. Credence takes a deep shuddering breath as Graves gently thumbs away some of the tears and gives a little watery laugh.

“God, I love you,” Credence whispers, low enough that only Graves can hear. He clears his throat and raises his voice for the rest of the congregation. “So I _did_ write my vows, but…” Credence takes a slip of paper out from where he’d hidden it in his bouquet, and to everyone’s shock, he rips up the speech and tosses the bits of paper to the ground.

“Percival,” Credence says, taking a breath and smiling through the last bit of tears. “When you first met me, I was lost and confused and so, so unhappy with who I was. I doubted myself at every turn as I tried to make myself fit an image I had in my head of what I thought was expected of me.” He clutches his bouquet to his chest tightly, a little choked up.

“But then I met you, and you drew me out of the shell I was hiding in. You helped me understand that being who I am is okay. Better than okay. You helped me understand that I was fine and I deserved to be loved.” Credence sniffles a little and it is the most heartbreaking noise Graves has ever heard.

“But that’s not the only reason why I love you. I love you for your kindness, your understanding, how you take one look at me and know exactly what I’m feeling. How you comfort me when I’m not feeling my best. How you carry me up to bed when I fall asleep on the couch by accident.” His voice wavers, blinking away glassy tears. “How safe you make me feel when you hold me in your arms.”

Graves can see Tina crying behind Credence, and his own eyes blur with tears as he watches his boy gather himself.

“Percival,” Credence says, voice strong and unwavering. “I vow to always support you and be there for you, through whatever may come, in sickness and health, in bad times and good times. I vow to love you unconditionally for the rest of our lives, until the day I die. I vow to be yours, body and soul, forever and always. As I have given you my hand to hold, I give you my life to keep.”

There’s a long beat of silence, the only sounds quiet sobs and sniffles from the gathered family and friends.

“Well,” Sera says, sounding a little choked up herself as she dabs her fingertips against the corners of her eyes. “I suppose asking if you’ll take each other to be your lawfully wedded spouses is a redundant question?”

“I fucking do,” Graves says firmly, effectively breaking the heavy mood. The crowd laughs wetly, a few cheers ringing out as Graves places the little gold ring on Credence’s slim finger.

“I do, too,” Credence says, beaming as he slides the matching ring onto Graves’ finger, a warm heavy weight Graves is happy to carry.

“And with that, by the power vested in me by the state of California I pronounce you both lawfully wedded,” Seraphina proclaims, fondly exasperated. “You may now kiss.”

Sera has barely finished her sentence before Graves scoops Credence up in his arms for a long, languid kiss, uncaring of their cheering friends and family. All he can think about is Credence pressed sweetly against him, all his, his _wife_. Once they finally pull away, they run down the aisle and out the chapel door, their friends showering them with pink and white rose petals. A sleek black car is already open for them to leap in and speed away.

“Hello, husband,” Credence grins at Graves from his side of the backseat.

“Hello, wife,” Graves says before pulling his boy in for a filthier version of the wedding kiss they just shared only a few moments ago. He's unashamedly lost in Credence and it feels like only a few moments before the chauffer parks them before the venue and raps on the little window separating them.

“Your reception awaits!” he laughs through the glass pane.

For a moment, Graves selfishly wishes they could just leave, not even bother attending their own wedding celebration, because now that he has Credence in his arms, all he wants is to be alone with him. He wants to just have Credence all to himself. He doesn’t see why they need to pander to a crowd when it’s _their_ special day.

Credence strokes his cheek softly, drawing Graves out of his thoughts. “Time to face the crowd,” he murmurs and Graves sighs, releasing him reluctantly. He steps out of the car, opening the door so Credence can carefully step out while minding his long skirts, to the cheers of their guests.

Surrounded by friends and family, Graves finds himself thinking that perhaps this isn’t so bad, especially when Tina throws her arms around his neck and whispers, “Oh, Dad! It was a beautiful ceremony,” her nose still a little red from crying.

But then come the flood of well-wishers and their many forms of ‘congratulations!’ and he smiles and grins his way through the reception until his jaw aches from suffering through yet another telling from Aunt Edith about her summer in Italy. Graves looks desperately around the rooftop venue, hoping to spot Credence so he can make his excuses and leave the conversation. He’d rather not hear much more about the _beautiful Sicilian men_ Aunt Edith met.

Graves finally sees Credence by the dessert bar talking animatedly with one of their guests, and drawn like a moth to a flame, Graves makes his excuses and begins his trek across the roof. He barely acknowledges the man Credence was chatting with as he leaves, curling an arm around Credence’s waist. Credence jumps a little in surprise, smiling softly when he turns in Graves’ arms and Graves’ heart stops for the upteenth time that day.

“Who was that?” Graves asks, glancing in the direction of the blond gentleman who had been chatting with Credence, now sidling up to Albus.

“Oh!” Credence says brightly, following his line of vision. “That’s Albus’ date. Didn’t catch his name but he’s very nice.”

 _Nice_. Graves can feel his hackles rising remembering the proprietary way he was touching Credence's waist. "I don't like him," he says petulantly.

Credence laughs softly, already leading him away from the crowd. “You don't like anyone, husband.”

“I like _you_ ,” Graves counters. “I fucking _love_ you.”

Credence laughs again and Graves feels so _lucky_ he gets to hear that sound over and over again for the rest of their lives. “I love you too, but let’s get away from here. For a little bit,” Credence says with a coy smile.

Graves is helpless to do anything but follow. He would follow Credence to the ends of the earth if he so much as asked. He laughs when Credence leads them to a small changing room just off the side of the bathrooms, usually used by brides and grooms to change their outfits throughout the reception. It’s a tiny space, but it’s just enough room for the two of them, and Graves barely notices anything else when Credence surges up to kiss him as soon as the door closes.

Graves crowds Credence up against the wall and kisses back breathlessly, his hands already itching to curl around Credence’s hips and pull off his dress. Instead, he palms Credence’s tiny waist, the dress soft and rustling beneath his touch, and his mouth finds the spot on Credence’s collarbone that makes him whimper.

“I can’t believe you tried to blow me an hour before we got married,” Graves whispers into Credence’s ear, feeling his princess squirm beneath him. “Naughty.”

“You didn’t seem to mind too much,” Credence mutters back, gasping when Graves reaches underneath his skirts to boldly cup where he is soft and heated and covered in lace. “I want you to fuck me,” Credence begs. “Please. I want you to make me your wife for real now.”

Graves’ blood heats up so fast hearing Credence plead so sweetly, he nearly sways and topples over. "Fuck, baby, of course I want to,” he groans into Credence’s throat, trying desperately not to leave any noticeable marks, but somehow unable to stop himself from nipping playfully at satin soft strawberry-scented skin. “But we can’t, princess. We don't have anything," Graves says despairingly.

Credence makes a low sound in his throat and turns cherry red as he fumbles in the dark and shyly lifts the side of his dress. There, glinting in the low light, is the long line of Credence’s thigh and a little packet of lube he'd tucked in his garter. So that's what those things are for.

Graves chokes on nothing, nearly dissolving into a coughing fit at the thought of his darling tucking lube beneath his wedding dress.

“I wanted to be prepared,” Credence says, suddenly shy at Graves’ shock. “So you could fuck me in my wedding dress.”

As Graves thumbs the garter, a condom and the packet of lube falls into his hand. He grins and snaps the garter against Credence’s thigh. “Jesus Christ,” he breathes. “Where did you even get these, baby?”

“Seraphina gave them to me,” Credence mumbles, giggling a little when Graves chokes. “She even gave me the condom so we wouldn't ruin my dress. She knew you were going to try something.”

“I would be a saint to not try anything with you looking like this,” Graves says, biting at Credence’s neck. It feels like the beginning of their relationship all over again, being allowed to kiss and bite, but not being able to leave any marks on Credence’s skin, sneaking into closets to steal kisses and touches, dashing around behind everyone’s back. “You have any other surprises, baby?”

Credence's flush gets even darker as Graves leans in close, but he says nothing as Graves tears open the lube, slick spilling down his fingers and pooling on his wrist. Graves slides his hand down into the back of those pretty, lacy little panties, drenched fingertips meeting a hot, equally wet heat, already as slick and as open as a cunt. Graves gasps as his fingers slip in easily, two right up to the knuckle, an easy silky glide that makes his head spin.

“I couldn’t stop thinking of you,” Credence admits, mewling when Graves massages over the plump little spot that drives him mad. “I--I couldn’t help but finger myself in the bathroom when we got here. Percival!”

Graves can feel a delirious bubble of disbelieving laughter building in his throat and he hides it by pulling Credence down for a kiss as he hoists him further up against the wall.

“Percy!” Credence gasps in surprise, clinging to Graves desperately with his long legs and arms, almost trembling. “What are you doing?”

“I’m going to hold you up,” Graves says slowly, so aroused he’s surprised he can form any coherent sentences, “kiss you till you can’t speak and then fuck you, just like this, wife.”

Credence stares at him for a moment. “I’m—it won’t be too heavy?” he asks even as a slow flush blooms across his cheeks and his eyes dilate with need.

Graves chuckles and pushes Credence’s panties down his thighs and off his slim legs, humming as he detangles the lace from Credence’s kitten heels. “No, baby,” he murmurs as he readjusts his grip, hands steadying Credence’s soft hips. “I don’t think so.”

Graves quickly unzips and pushes down his own tuxedo pants, too aroused for any semblance of finesse and taps the flared, ruddy tip of his cock right over where Credence pulses for him, giving and sweet. Credence moans helplessly at the teasing, sliding his hands through Graves’ carefully combed hair.

“Don’t do that to me,” he begs. “Please, Percival. I need you!”

“But, princess,” Graves murmurs, rolling his hips slowly so his cock drags over Credence’s soft little thigh, the ruffles of his garter cotton soft against him. “It’s our first time as husband and wife. I don’t want to rush.”

Credence shuts him up with another filthy kiss and even Graves has his limits. He's fumbling with the foil packet, lamenting for a brief moment that their first time together as husband and wife won't be skin to skin but beggars can't be choosers. Before Credence can squirm his cock into him, Graves gathers himself and slips inside that tight wet heat.

Graves doesn't think he can last very long, not with the long hours he's waited all day for this, not now that he's inside of his _wife_ , and not even the feeling of the latex around his cock muting the sensations can slow his rush towards orgasm. He might not have wanted to hurry, wanted to take it slow but Graves can't _help_ it, not with Credence moaning so prettily, looking debauched despite their best efforts at trying to keep him looking neat. But the feeling of Credence’s mouth dipping down to press against his, slick and hot, murmuring, “I love you I love you I love you, husband,” is what ultimately tips Graves over the edge.

As soon as Graves catches his breath, he gently lowers Credence, steadying him as he regains his footing, Credence’s thighs shaking like a doe’s, and drops to his knees, uncaring about dirtying his tuxedo pants.

“What—?”

Before Credence can protest, Graves is slipping underneath his gossamer skirts and pulling one of Credence’s slim legs over his shoulder. With a slow smirk, Graves presses a quick kiss to Credence’s inner thigh, feeling him tremble.

“Percy,” Credence warbles and finally, Graves stops his teasing and mouths at the head of Credence’s cock before licking a long stripe along the length of it. He kisses the tip fondly before sighing and swallowing him down, Credence a sweet little mouthful Graves wants to savor for as long as he can.

“Percival!” Credence has to clamp his own hand over his mouth to stop himself from wailing. As it is, his chest heaves with heavy breaths, eyes gleaming from overwhelming pleasure, and he squirms in Graves’ grip as Graves pulls him forward by the hips.

Credence shudders with his whole body when Graves takes him into his throat. Credence is a warm weight that is easy to swallow around worshipfully as Graves slides three fingers back inside of him.

Credence barely lasts for more than a handful of minutes. They’ve both anticipated being together all day, all of the teasing and heated looks and desperate touches coming to a peak. With a clever flick of Graves’ tongue against velvet soft skin and a curl of his fingers, his boy is spilling down his throat. Graves swallows greedily as Credence muffles his gasps and cries behind his hand.

Tina finds them in the little room seconds after they carefully rearrange Credence’s dress into their best effort at decency, hands on her hips as she glares at them both in turn.

“How did I know I would find you both in here?” she says, sounding so exasperated, Graves almost feels bad. “Do you know how many times I had to distract Aunt Mildred from looking for you? This is _your_ wedding, remember?”

Graves can’t help it, he starts laughing, his poor daughter always somehow managing to catch them both, time and time again. Tina gives him a bewildered look, which only makes him laugh harder until Credence is trying to hide his giggles too, and even Tina’s best efforts at maintaining her composure with a stern, “This isn’t funny!” is halfhearted at best, her mouth twitching at the edges.

“C’mon, dad,” Tina sighs finally, wiping at her eyes. “You’ve got a cake to cut.”

Graves looks at his daughter and the love of his life grinning at each other, and pure happiness bubbles up in his chest, bright and golden. “Yeah, we do.” He takes Credence’s hand in his, squeezing softly as they head back to their party.

 


	4. Year 4

4.

“Do you think I should dye my greys?” Graves asks one morning, squinting critically at his reflection in the mirror as he drags his fingers through the short hairs at his temples.

Credence freezes in the middle of brushing his teeth at the adjoining sink and stares back wide-eyed at Graves’ reflection, looking affronted. He spits out his toothpaste before replying, “No! Of course not. Why? What brought this on?”

Graves shrugs, trying for noncommittal. “Just think maybe I would look better if I got rid of them,” he mumbles, knowing he sounds silly and petulant but the whole idea has him feeling self conscious. “I'm not getting any younger,” he adds.

“So?” Credence rinses his mouth before sliding up behind Graves and looping his slim arms around Graves’ waist. “I happen to really like them.” Graves feels petal soft lips press a tiny kiss against his neck. “It makes you look very distinguished.”

“Hmm.” Graves gives a low grunt in response, but after that, the thought of his age never seems to completely leave him. He has never felt quite as old as the day he realizes he's squinting at his papers and might actually need reading glasses, or when he has to ask Credence for help with a new program on his computer, or even when he sees Credence easily stretching in the morning, so bright and young and sweet. For all of those times, Graves wonders if he’s holding Credence back.

It’s selfish to wonder now, he knows, because Credence is already married to him, has been for an entire blissful year. Perhaps Graves would've wondered sooner if he was a more selfless man, but he had always been greedy and selfish when it comes to Credence. His love for his wife is far too consuming and possessive to ever want to think about any distance between them.

On the morning of their first anniversary, Graves fills the house with three hundred and sixty-five roses, one for each day of their married life. He wakes Credence up with breakfast in bed, settling the heavy food laden tray on the bedside table before crawling back under the covers to wake his darling up with loving kisses.

The vision of Credence waking and stretching, and the sound of his gentle sighs will never not make Graves feel like the luckiest man in the world. Credence’s eyes flicker open lazily, long arms looping around Graves’ neck and he can’t help but smile down at Credence’s mild look of confusion and pleasure.

“Good morning to you too,” Credence murmurs, before his eyes widen at the sight of all the roses filling the room, prettily placed in little ceramic bowls and vases. “What’s—what’s all this?” he asks, sliding his fingers through Graves’ as he sits up, still a little bleary from sleep.

“Well, seeing as it’s our first anniversary, I thought I’d do something special,” Graves murmurs, delighted by Credence’s expression of happy surprise.

“Wow,” Credence breathes, looking around the room. “How many exactly did you get, Percival? This is a bit much.”

Graves laughs. “Just one for each day of our marriage so far,” he replies nonchalantly, laughing again when Credence’s expression goes from surprise to shock. “There’s more downstairs,” he adds. “They couldn’t all fit in our room.”

“You’re insane!” Credence accuses, looking delighted despite his best efforts at admonishing Graves for his ridiculous gesture. “What am I going to do with you?” he whispers as he pulls Graves in for a warm kiss.

“Well,” Graves replies when they part, a smile curling his mouth, “I was hoping you would go with me to Big Sur after breakfast."

Credence’s eyes light up with eagerness. “You’re not joking?” he says, excitement making his voice high and thready.

“I hope not,” Graves says, pretending to frown, “seeing as how I booked us a beach house on the bluffs for a long weekend. I wanted to take you somewhere nice for your last week of freedom before your classes start again but I guess if you don’t want to go…” he adds, earning a playful slap to the shoulder for his teasing.

“Don’t you dare, Percival,” Credence says warningly, the laughter in his voice contrasting his serious tone. “Oh, god, I love you. You’re so good to me.”

…

It’s early afternoon before they finally pile their things into the new BMW that Credence has affectionately named the Tank for the long drive up the coast. The sun is high above them by the time they finally make it out of the bottleneck cinch of Los Angeles traffic. Credence is squirming excitedly in his seat the whole way, unable to sit still as he chatters on about their trip, his eyes fixed on the passing scenery outside the windshield when he’s not researching sights and attractions on his phone.

“There are elephant seals in Paso Robles, Percival!” Credence says delightedly, turning briefly from his phone to grin at Graves. “And a waterfall in one of the national parks by Big Sur.”

“I’m sure we can drive out to see all of those things once we get to the beach house,” Graves says as Credence beams widely with joy.

It’s nearly sunset by the time they make their way up along the scenic Californian coastline, the bright blue sky they’ve been driving under for most of the day just beginning to tint with pink and orange at the edges. The sun is just starting to dip below the high cliffs dotting the horizon as they pull up to the beach house.

Credence is off like a shot before Graves is even parked properly in the driveway, already moving to the trunk to unload their things.

“Hurry, Percival!” he cries excitedly as he hurries up the path without waiting for him, two bags tucked under his arms.

The beach house is a secluded little A-frame cottage perched on top of the bluffs overlooking the ocean below with a path down to their own private beach. The entire west wall of the house is made of glass, allowing the pinks and purples and golds to wash their temporary home for the weekend with color as they step into the small foyer. Credence is stunned speechless as he turns in circles, trying to look at everything at once, from the open kitchen to the cozy living room to the master bedroom just beyond the tiny hallway leading to the back of the house.

“It’s so beautiful,” Credence says wonderingly as he walks up to the glass wall, trailing his fingers on the huge window pane.

Graves’ heart thuds in his chest nervously, because even though he knows that Credence isn’t anywhere near the edge of a cliff’s end, the glass tricks his mind. It looks as if Credence could go tumbling down through the glass at any moment. As if he could fall right into the ragged maw of rock below and get swept away by the swirling blue ocean.

Graves has had dreams of Credence being swept away for weeks now, ever since he wondered aloud if he’s perhaps too old. In the dreams, Credence is always taken away from him, whether by the tide, or by someone else. They’re always the same, Graves will always lose Credence, and the dreams wake him gasping for breath as his heart thuds in his chest when he reaches over the bed to make sure Credence is safe beside him.

Graves has to force himself to relax as he comes up behind him now pressed against the window wall. He breathes a silent sigh of relief as his arms wrap around Credence, pulling him up against his chest to keep him safe and _there_ , discreetly backing them both up a few paces, away from the glass and the drop. He knows he’s being ridiculous. But _still_.

“I’m glad you like it. Why don’t you go wash up while I get everything ready for our bonfire?”

“Bonfire?” Credence gasps and Graves smiles and relaxes at the way his eyes light up excitedly.

“Yes,” Graves says, grinning as he nudges against Credence’s soft cheek with his nose. “Didn’t you see the marshmallows I packed? We’re going to make s’mores.”

Credence claps his hands in delight, oblivious to Graves’ tumultuous thoughts. “Do you know how to set a fire and everything?” he asks, eyes big and bright with interest.

Graves hums. “Have I ever told you of my secret past as a Boy’s Scout?”

Credence gasps, mockingly dramatic. “No!”

“True story,” Graves replies with a small grin, releasing Credence with a tiny kiss and nudging him in the direction of the bedroom. “I’ll get everything set up. Come down to the beach when you’re ready.”

…

Graves has a fire going by the time Credence floats down the cliff steps, and he nearly drops the pile of driftwood he has in his hands at the sight of Credence dressed in chiffon gossamer white with purple brodiaeas from the cottage garden woven into the long plaits of his curls. His skirt swirls wispily around his thighs as he traipses down the rickety steps, the fringed shawl wrapped around his narrow shoulders fluttering in the evening sea breeze. Graves is reminded so vividly of their wedding day, he finds himself struggling to breathe past the lump in his throat.

Credence’s smile is soft and wistful as he steps up on his tiptoes and plants a slow kiss on Graves’ mouth, long and lingering. “Hello,” he murmurs quietly, smiling as he settles down on the blanket by the makeshift fire pit Graves had crafted with stones and rocks smoothed by the ocean. “This is so nice.”

Graves swallows and manages to nod his head as he cups Credence's downy cheek in his hand. “How is it we've been in love for so long and you still manage to take my breath away?” he wonders.

“Percival…” Credence says quietly, his eyes shining wetly in the golden evening light as he turns his head to press a kiss against Graves’ palm.

“Don’t you dare cry, princess,” Graves warns, drawing him in to kiss his forehead fondly.

“I'm not crying,” Credence snuffles. “You're crying,” he adds absurdly.

Graves laughs, swiping at his cheeks to find them indeed slightly wet. “I just might be, darling,” he admits. “Can't help myself around you. You've got this old man feeling so goddamned blessed to have someone like you.”

“Not old,” Credence mumbles. “Stop saying that.” He pokes Graves meanly in the side, little pout so cute Graves can’t help but kiss his bottom lip. “Show me how to make s’mores.”

They have s’mores for dinner, the treats coming out sticky sweet and marshmallow fluff sticking stubbornly to Credence’s bottom lip, as the burnt sugar and messy chocolate make him grin with delight. He laughs as he tries to eat neatly. “It’s messier than I thought it would be,” Credence mumbles around a mouthful of graham cracker and melted sugar before chewing and swallowing carefully.

It’s strange to see Credence lick idly at his fingers and kick playfully at the rough, grainy sand with bare feet when they finally get off the blanket and start their stroll on the beach. They walk slowly along the cliffside, and Credence looks as if he were any other normal college student experiencing life for the first time, not someone already married and tied to someone else for life.

The wind tousles Credence’s curls and whips his shawl around his waist, but in the low evening light, he looks so quietly joyous and _free_ , it makes Graves’ breath stick in his throat and something that burns like guilt bubble in his stomach. Graves holds his hand as they look out on the glimmering ocean, the sunset drenching them in golds and pinks and pale purples.  

“Do you think we’ll see stars?” Credence asks eagerly, his soft voice pulling Graves from his thoughts.

Both he and Graves have become used to L.A.’s artificial glow blocking out the sky into a blank, black slate. They would be lucky to see the moon peeking down with a weak, sickly glow, the few scattered stars overhead struggling to be seen.

Graves points up, Credence following the line of his finger to see where tiny glimmering diamond dots are just beginning to peek out in the darkening sky. The sun sets slowly, and as the sky darkens, more shining lights blink into existence, infinite in the black expanse that settles over them, gentle like a cloak.

They're away from the noise and bustle of L.A., ensconced in the quiet of the beach. The only sounds are the lulling waves crashing on the horizon and the fingers of white foam combing the shore. They're lost in the rhythm of their own steady breaths as they lean against each other, trading kisses and lingering touches.

They walk back to their little fire and lay in the sand for a long time, Graves content just to hold Credence close and watch the dancing firelight flicker across the gorgeous planes of his sweetheart’s face. His darling boy entranced by the stars, unable to keep his eyes away.

“They’re so beautiful, Percival. I wish we could see them at home too,” Credence says, as Graves laughs and kisses him gently.

“We could move out here,” Graves suggests, half-seriously.

Credence thinks about it for a quiet moment, the edges of his lips curling up in a slow happy smile. “Maybe some day, when we’re both old and grey,” he says, not knowing how those words wrench deep in Graves’ gut. “After we retire and all our children are grown,” he adds, laughing softly.

Graves is already old and grey, but his darling Credence has years and years to go yet. For the first time, he thinks about how one day, he will go before Credence, and his wife will be all alone. He curls his arms tighter around Credence and kisses him to drive the ugly thoughts away.

The fire is little more than crackling embers by the time they retire. Graves carries Credence home, his darling so tired his head lolls against Graves’ shoulder as he climbs the rickety beach steps with his precious cargo in his arms but when Graves carefully places him in their bed, Credence blinks slowly awake. He’s smiling as he pulls Graves down over him, and teases him with soft caresses and kisses until he has them both gasping and panting.

Slim arms reach up to pull Graves closer as long legs wrap around his waist to pull him in, the languid rocking of their bodies echoing the waves lapping at the sand outside. Credence whispers sweet nothings in his ear until they both fall asleep, wrapped so tightly together, Graves can’t tell where he begins and where Credence ends.

…

There is nothing as beautiful as Credence in the morning, and whereas at home, Credence often sleeps well into nearly noon when he doesn’t have class, he wakes with the sun in their temporary glass home. Graves finds him standing by the wall that overlooks the bluffs, wearing one of his shirts, so large it slides off one shoulder and drapes halfway down his thighs. Graves is reminded again and again, how lucky he is to have this.

“Good morning, beautiful,” Graves murmurs as he walks up behind Credence to wrap his arms around his waist, gently pulling him back a few paces, away from that godforsaken glass. He doesn’t quite remember why the beach house was a good idea until Credence smiles as he leans back against his chest, turning his face for a kiss. “What would you like to do today?” Graves asks as he reluctantly pulls away after a long, languid kiss.

“Hmm.” Credence touches the tips of their noses together, and Graves could count every dark lash if he wants. “Maybe we can go into town,” Credence suggests. “See the sights.”

“We could go see the whales,” Graves offers.

Credence looks delighted when Graves mentions whale watching. “We could go see the whales,” he repeats dreamily and gives Graves another peck on the lips before rushing into the bedroom to dress.

“Shouldn’t we eat breakfast first?” Graves calls after him, amused.

“We can get something in town, can’t we?” Credence whisks back into the room in a loose powder blue shirt and flowy skirt, his favorite bag slung over his arm.

“Is that appropriate whale watching clothes?” Graves asks as Credence packs his camera and wallet and chapstick into the bag.

“I don’t mind if I get a little wet,” Credence laughs, tucking a stray strand of hair behind the shell of his ear as he twists his long curls up into a bun.

“But what if you get cold?” Graves says, pulling on a cardigan and reaching over to tug at the thin sleeve of Credence’s shirt. “The temperature could be a lot lower out in the water, and there’re the ocean winds, and the sea spray.”

“Good thing I have my husband around to keep me warm,” Credence replies brightly, already tugging Graves out the door.

“ _Credence_ ,” Graves groans playfully, but he follows him all the way down into the town’s main street, where they stop for breakfast at a little cafe with outdoor seating that overlooks the skyscraping redwoods, enormous branches swaying in the seasalt breeze.

“What are you getting, Percy?” Credence asks as they settle at their table.

Graves hums as he glances down at his own menu. He’s been making an effort to eat healthier since they’ve gotten married--he wants to be around for as long as possible, for Credence’s sake if nothing else, but he supposes he deserves a little cheat. It is their wedding anniversary after all. “They don’t have anything kale,” Graves jokes wryly, just to see Credence grimace in response.

“That’s so disgustingly L.A. of you,” Credence tells him. “I, for one, am sick of all of those whole grains and green crap. I’m getting waffles.”

They end up ordering a veritable mountain of food. Hot pumpkin waffles and whipped cream and sweet creamy coffee and a side of sausages and scrambled eggs. The decadent smell of coffee and delicious fried grease makes Graves’ stomach rumble.

Credence hums happily as he enjoys a bite of fluffy waffle. “‘S really good,” he mumbles, hiding his full mouth with his hand.

Graves grins, leaning in to kiss away a smudge of whipped cream. “Very good,” he adds, amused at the pink flush of Credence’s cheeks, still blushing despite their years together.

“Really, Percival?” Credence mumbles, wiping at his lip with his napkin. “Behave. Or I’ll drag you into the bathroom to finish what you started.”

It’s Graves’ turn to flush a little, at the tips of his ears, because Credence says it like a threat, but Graves would prefer it be a promise. He's already eating faster after Credence’s words, trying to finish his breakfast so maybe he can really take Credence into the bathroom and—

“I should’ve known you’d like that,” Credence sighs, fondly exasperated. “Let’s finish up before they kick us out for public indecency. And before all the whales go home.”

“It wouldn’t be the first time we get kicked out of a restaurant for something like that,” Graves says blithely, just to watch the blush on Credence’s cheeks darken.

“You promised we wouldn’t talk about that again,” Credence says, just the hint of a whine in his voice. He tosses a napkin at Graves’ head in rebuke. “And for the record, it was your fault in the first place.”

“Really?” Graves says slyly. “Who’s fault? Who was it that decided to lick his ice cream that way? You shouldn’t be allowed near spoons. It’s indecent.”

“Stop that, Percival,” Credence says, shaking his head innocently. “And none of that today,” he says primly as he scoops up a dollop of whipped cream and slowly licks his way down the tines of his fork, slick pink tongue dragging a long line down the metal. “We’re going to see the whales.”

“You naughty boy,” Graves says, utterly devastated. “You’re going to get us run out of town.”

Credence sets his fork down and smiles brightly. “We’re not going to do anything. We’re going to see the whales,” he repeats, waving the waitress over to ask for the check.

And see the whales they do. They head down to the docks after they finish eating, Graves slipping his hand over the curve of Credence’s waist and squeezing, schooling his expression into nonchalant innocence when Credence gives him A Look.

Despite everything, they manage to clamber onto the streamlined cruiser, heavy with bumbling tourists steadying their clunky cameras as they crowd against the rail of the starboard all the way up along the side of the boat. Graves has to remind himself that he and Credence are also tourists and he has no business judging their sunburned brethren for anything other than having a good time.

Credence lurks by the rails happily, sliding his fingers through Graves’ as he leans up against his side. The boat takes them out into the ocean until the little town and surrounding cliffs are faint smudges in the distance and they’re surrounded on all sides by blue sea and white foam. They don’t see anything but wide expanses of ocean for a long time, the tourists around them fluttering restlessly, mumbling their complaints about having nothing to photograph, until there’s a huge swell of water to the left of the boat.

Credence gasps as enormous fins emerge out of the water, a fan of the whale’s tail that curls up over the waves before the rest of its huge body follows, flipping over onto its belly as it slides back under the depths of the sea. Waves ripple out violently from the spot where the whale disappeared, rocking the boat in long hard sways. It reemerges only a moment later, this time more gently, water sheeting off its sides as it puffs out a breath from its blowhole, a spray of water in the air.

Credence is too in awe to even take photos, so Graves films the entire thing on Credence’s camera as his wife _ooh_ s and _aww_ s, cheering when the whale smacks its tail fin against the waves and creating a splash so big, it rains the boat with a heavy mist from hundreds of yards away.

Credence laughs as he’s drenched in the spray, and Graves swallows hard at the sight of his boy’s thin shirt soaking transparent from the water. As expected, Credence is shivering by the time their expedition is over, and Graves removes his sweater to drape over his quaking shoulders. The smile Credence gives him is enough to warm him from the chilly ocean air.

They explore the little town until dinnertime, Credence running excitedly into the tiny shops dotting the main street, swooping down on handcrafted trinkets and baubles and jewelry for Tina, Queenie, and Newt. He picks them up carefully one by one, showing them to Graves as he asks if he thinks Tina or Queenie might like this seaglass necklace, and does he think Newt would like this hand sculpted whale figurine.

...

“This has been a wonderful trip so far,” Credence says as they finally settle down to dinner in one of the bistros with an outdoor patio. Their table is a tiny little candlelit white-cloth covered square nestled in the far end of the yard beneath an arching tall tree strung with glimmering fairy lights. “It reminds me of when we went to Puerto Rico, but not as warm, and with whales.”

Graves hums, amused. “You’re right. We keep going to beaches and oceans. Maybe you would like to go to Europe next, or Asia. We can go wherever you like, princess.”

Credence smiles fondly, his eyes shining in the candlelight as he lightly drags the tips of his fingers over the top of Graves’ hand, barely more than a feathersoft touch. “Anywhere is fine, Percival. I don’t care as long as we get to spend time together.”

That only reminds Graves with a sharp pang of how often he has to leave Credence all alone, with business trips that often take him away for two or three days at a time, on top of long hours at the office. He swears to himself he’s going to cut back on the ridiculous hours, loosen his tight hold on his cases and let his associates and interns do more of the work so he can go home earlier, so he can have more time with his wife. He’s not going to always be this strong and able, and he wants to give Credence the best years of his life; he deserves nothing less.

“I’m sorry, darling,” Graves sighs. “I promise we’ll have more time together. I’m going to take time off so we can travel the world, and you can see everything.”

Credence’s smile turns wistful and sad as he brings Graves’ hand up to press a kiss against his palm. “Okay, Percival,” he says, and Graves knows his poor darling doesn’t believe him but Credence never asks anything of him.

Graves has made these promises before, and yet he always falls back into his bad habits of working too much. This time, he’s going to do better.

Before he can say anything else, a man stumbles towards their table from the street, clearly drunk and laying a dirty paw on Credence’s shoulder. Credence looks up at him in surprise, motioning for Graves to sit back down as he moves to remove the stranger touching his wife.

“Hey, sweet thing,” the man slurs, teetering closer to Credence. Graves grinds his teeth as he clenches his fist against his thighs. “What's your rate? I'll pay you double whatever that guy is paying you,” he clarifies at Credence’s shocked expression, leaning over the patio barrier and into his face. “C’mon, why would you want an old man like that?”

“No, thank you,” Credence says calmly once he's schooled his expression from shock to ice cold. “You can't afford me.”

The man jerks his hand away as though his palm has been burned, a glint of clarity coming through the haze of his alcohol-glazed stupor. “Didn't realize I was talking to a fucking tranny,” he slurs, beginning to walk away.

The whole thing has Graves seeing red. He nearly cracks one of his teeth, he’s clenching his jaw so hard. He has never been so livid in his life. Before he realizes what he’s doing, he's standing as Credence tugs frantically at his arm. His knuckles are smarting, skin bleeding and split, and the asshole throwing slurs at his wife is crumpled on the ground, clutching at his jaw from where Graves has attempted to break it.

“Percival,” Credence is saying urgently, eyes wide as he tugs at Graves’ arm again. “We have to go, we can't stay here. We have to _go._ ” He's looking nervously around the outdoor restaurant. The other patrons are all staring back in their direction to see what the ruckus is all about and there's a waiter heading towards them now with a frown low on his brow as Credence redoubles his efforts at trying to get Graves to leave.

Graves sighs and tosses a couple of hundreds on the table to cover their half-finished meal and lets Credence drag him away, just barely able to restrain himself from kicking the whimpering drunkard as they walk past.

It isn’t until they’ve made it all the way back to the cottage that Graves really gets a good look at Credence. His darling’s head is down and he’d been quiet the entire walk home. Graves realizes belatedly that he hadn’t checked to see if Credence was okay, if that fucker did something to him, if he had gripped his grubby paw too tight on Credence’s shoulder, if he had somehow hurt him, how fucking dare that piece of shit, touching Credence like that—

“Percival,” Credence says softly, interrupting his thoughts. He sighs as he stares back at Graves with big eyes, and Graves’ heart thunders in his chest, wondering anxiously now if he had reacted the wrong way and if Credence is mad at him for causing a scene when he punched out that drunk fucker.

“You can’t help yourself, can you?” Credence continues. The corner of his mouth twitches upwards and the relief that floods Graves is so strong, he nearly falls over. “We’re always getting kicked out of restaurants. What am I going to do with you?” he adds as he leans up against Graves for a hard kiss that’s all lips and tongue and teeth.

“He called you that disgusting, filthy word,” Graves growls when they separate, still feeling angry at the thought of it. “I should've knocked his teeth out for daring to utter it around you—”

Credence shakes his head. “Doesn’t matter,” he says gently, smoothing his fingertips over Graves’ aching knuckles. “It doesn’t matter what horrible, narrow minded people who don’t understand us say. You helped me to be comfortable with myself, and you’re the one who helped me realize none of the hatred directed at me matters. Only you matter, Percival. But _god_ , it was such a turn on to watch you punch that idiot for me,” he breathes with a sly smirk. “It made me so wet to think of you putting that fucker in his place, all for me.”

Graves’ breath hitches in his throat as he pulls Credence back in for another hard kiss. Soon, he has Credence naked and pressed up against the glass wall as he lines his chest up along the length of his back, Credence gasping as Graves strokes him to completion in a tight fist, both of them too riled up to make it to the bed. He gathers Credence’s come in his hand until his fingers are slick with it before he slides two into Credence, swallowing his gasps and cries with harsh kisses.

“Percival,” Credence wails as Graves finally slides in, trembling from oversensitivity, his palms pressed up against the window-wall. Graves’ hands are bruisingly tight on his boy’s hips as he rocks him up against the glass with hard thrusts.

“I would never let anyone hurt you, you know that?” Graves growls, feeling feral and wild, his hips snapping harder into Credence. “I would kill anyone who tries to take you away from me.”

Credence nods frantically, his hair falling out of his bun and brushing against the sides of his cheeks. He looks devastated when he turns his head for another kiss, murmuring, “I know, my love, I know,” against Graves’ lips as he clenches tightly against his cock. “I would do the same for you.” Graves hadn’t known how badly he needed to hear those words from Credence until they tumble from his mouth, and he kisses the sounds away, swallowing them to keep for himself.

Graves nearly collapses as he comes thickly inside of Credence, sliding down to sit on the floor by the glass as he breathes deep to regain his breath. Credence settles down across his lap and Graves draws him tight against his chest, not wanting to let go, only satisfied when Credence curls his arms around his neck.

“You’re so beautiful, Credence,” Graves murmurs,  breaking their comfortable silence as he gently tracing the lines of his darling’s face with a reverent finger. “I wish everyone could see that because I love every part of you, every side of you. I love you the way you are and I wouldn't have you any other way.”

“I love you too,” Credence says. “That’s why I married you.”

“But he’s right though,” Graves says, slightly morose. “I _am_ an old man.”

Credence hums a little before replying. “I don’t think an old man would be strong enough to fuck me against a wall like that,” he says reasonably, his lips curved in a satisfied smile. “Even if you are,” he continues, his hand brushing against Graves’ jaw, “you’re _my_ old man.”

Graves sighs. “Don’t you ever wish you had someone younger though?”

Credence punches him lightly on the arm before replying, his expression stern and serious when he looks at Graves. “No, Percival,” he says firmly, the _you idiot_ all but implied. “I chose you and I will always choose you. It’s always been you. I would marry you over and over again, you idiot. I don’t care about your age. I never did, and we’ve never let anything like that stop us before, why should it start now? We’ve been through too much for you to keep thinking like this.”

Graves huffs out a long breath he didn’t realize he was holding. “Okay,” he finally says, smiling. “Just making sure.” He supposes he could live with that; he would be an old man if he could be _Credence’s_ old man.

“And no more fights, okay?” Credence continues, shifting in Graves’ lap. “I want to enjoy the rest of my damn vacation. We’re going to go see the elephant seals tomorrow. But for now...”

Graves laughs, thinking maybe this old man has another round in him when Credence squirms purposefully against him. “Whatever my princess wants.”


	5. Year 5

5.

Getting the damn surprise with Credence being none the wiser is a damn mission impossible and an exercise in extreme patience. Graves is very aware that herding Credence out of the house would look suspicious. So he sits, trying not to fidget with anticipation as Credence gets himself dressed and ready for his day, making them both breakfast, puttering around and tidying up.

He takes so damn long, Graves is nearly crawling out of his skin. Graves appreciates everything Credence does for him, he really does, but sometimes his impatience gets the best of him, especially when excitement bubbles fizzy in his belly and he just wants to _go._

It’s the first time ever that Graves wants to see Credence walk out the front door sooner rather than later. Finally, _finally_ , Credence kisses him goodbye and heads out to go shopping with Queenie in the Corvette Graves had given him three years before (and Graves won’t lie, that puts a heady kind of self-satisfaction in his chest like nothing else to see his princess drive that car).

As soon as the door closes behind Credence, Graves hops into the Tank and heads to the local animal shelter. It’s a low squat concrete building that sits in front of a cracked parking lot in the not-very-nice part of town. The halls and rooms inside are a depressing shade of mustard yellow painted over rough-hewn stone with swinging garishly blue doors.

It’s not the prettiest, or even nicest place in the world, and Graves is definitely glad of his decision not to bring Credence. It would break his heart to see the state of the cages and the sadness in each of the animals’ eyes and they would end up adopting all of the little mewling kittens as well as the tiny whimpering puppies if Credence had his way.

Graves walks down the long hall of the dogs section, each animal sadder than the last. It’s hard to look at some of the animals cowering in the corners of their cages, shivering in fright, most of them knowing too well the far-stretching extent of human cruelty. He sighs as he walks, feels the sorrow well up in his own chest and resolves to make a donation on the way out, a small hope to improve the living condition of these poor creatures.

Graves knows the dog is the one as soon as he sees him, a sad little ball of tawny fur curled up in a tight ball in a tiny cage towards the back of the long kennel. The poor thing is trembling so hard, he’s damn near shivering, the whites of his eyes a wide ring around the dark of his iris and Graves’ heart nearly breaks seeing the terrified little thing.

“Hey, buddy,” Graves murmurs as one of the shelter attendants unlocks the cage. And as the pup uncurls warily from his little ball and staggers out onto the pavement of the floor, Graves’ heart cracks in two to see only three sturdy legs holding the pup up instead of four. “Hey, sweetie.” He looks up at the attendant helping him. “Do they have a name?”

“Not yet.” The woman smiles fondly as she reaches out and lets the puppy sniff and lap curiously at her fingers with his pink little tongue. “He’s a tough one, though. Pitbulls don’t often get adopted, and his missing leg puts him at a disadvantage from the other animals.”

But the moment that really seals the deal is when the little puppy visibly draws up all his courage from his trembling bones and hops two feet into Graves’ arms.

“There’s a good boy. What a good boy!” Graves croons softly and impossibly, the puppy relaxes underneath Graves’ enthusiastic praise and gentle kisses, melting when Graves coos and rubs his downy belly.

“I want him,” says Graves seriously, finally, once the puppy has settled to sleep in his arms, reminding him of Credence during lazy Sunday mornings.

“Are you sure?” the shelter volunteer asks, surprise coloring the tone of her voice. It’s clear that no one else has shown interest in this puppy before, and that further affirms Graves’ decision. “This dog is going to take a lot of work and love and attention. Are you sure you wouldn’t rather have a dog that’s not disabled—”

“I’m sure,” Graves interrupts firmly, his voice brooking no room for argument. “There's nothing wrong with him. He’s perfect. My wife is going to love him.”

The shelter attendant smiles slowly. “Glad to hear that.”

There's a lot of paperwork and an interview. One of the managers questions Graves quite extensively, perhaps more seriously than usual because of the pup’s condition but eventually Graves finds himself loading a docile little pitbull asleep in his crate into his car. He's grinning as he carefully pulls out of the shelter driveway.

Graves is eager to stop off at a pet store and pick up supplies before Credence gets home in a few hours, taking the exit for the nearest Petco. He hooks a leash onto the collar the shelter had outfitted the pup with and finds himself murmuring “What do you think?” to the puppy as they walk through the aisles together. He only purchases the essentials: a large fluffy bed, several toys, dog food and little treats, knowing Credence will be eager to spoil their new pup soon enough.

“Credence is going to love you,” Graves says fondly as Pup takes a little wee in the outside bushes. He scoops the dog up in his arms once he's finished before leading him up to the front door, murmuring softly, “and you're going to love your new Mommy. But you're going to have to be very good and quiet until you meet him, you're supposed to be a surprise.”

The pup is a good little thing, quiet as they slip into the house. Credence is back, going by the Corvette parked in front of the house, no doubt lazing poolside in one of his many bikinis or swimsuits, sure to drive Graves crazy.

“Percival? Is that you?” he hears Credence call just as Graves puts the pup into their bedroom and closes the door. He clears his throat and heads back downstairs.

He's always loved Credence at the end of summer, after the sun has gently gilded his skin and left sun freckles sprinkling across the bridge of his nose and the tops of his shoulders. His bikinis have left delicious strips of creamy white skin when peeled away at night or in the shower, cool and damp and so, so soft. And now is no different, Graves smiling at his darling dripping chlorine water onto the kitchen floor when he steps inside from the pool, groaning at the sight of his strappy little swimsuit.

“Baby, you're killing me,” Graves groans, gathering Credence up and pulling him to his chest, humming into his neck, uncaring as he drips water all over his shirt.

Credence laughs, delighted, cupping Graves’ face, smooth fingers rasping against the light stubble on Graves’ cheeks. “I would never,” he says, smirking, moving in for a languid kiss.

“I have a surprise for you I think you might like,” Graves says, eyes glittering and Credence raises an eyebrow.

“What have you done now?” he asks with amusement, playing with the soft hairs on the nape of Graves’ neck.

“Absolutely nothing!” Graves proclaims, playfully affronted, his hands settling at Credence’s hips. “You'll love it, I promise.”

“Well, now I'm curious. It's not my birthday or anything.” Credence looks happily suspicious.

“Why do I need an occasion to get my princess something?” Graves asks. “But it _is_ an occasion. Today is the anniversary of the day I met you. Do you remember? Tina brought you home for dinner and I couldn’t keep my eyes off of you. You probably thought I was some kind of creep.”

Credence laughs softly, tightening his arms around Graves’ neck. “I thought you were the most handsome man I’d ever met,” he admits. “And now you’re all mine. Five whole years and I still can’t believe that.”

Graves says with a flippant blitheness he doesn’t feel, his chest constricting with the weight of the love he feels for his wife, “And you’re stuck with me forever now, whether you like it or not.”

“I love it,” Credence replies, pulling him in for another kiss.

The feeling of Credence’s tongue curling against his own and the warm press of his body will never not get Graves going, the heat pooling low in his belly until all he can think about is pressing his princess down over the kitchen counter so he can slide in between his legs. He pulls away before he gives in to the urge, shushing Credence’s protests gently.

“Your surprise,” Graves reminds him. “And it's not something you should make wait.” He grabs a towel from the hall closet and drapes it around Credence’s shoulders before leading him up the stairs. Graves can see Credence's amusement growing as they head down the hallway towards their bedroom.

“Okay, James Bond, what's with all this secrecy?” Credence asks around soft laughter. “Where is this surprise?” But then, at the sound of Credence’s voice, comes a soft little yip from behind their bedroom door and Credence freezes. “Percy. You didn't,” he breathes, shocked as he presses fingers to his mouth in disbelief.

Graves pushes the door to their room open and a little ball of fur tumbles out, hopping around on three legs. Credence immediately slides down to the floor in front of the puppy, stunned. He reaches out a shaking hand towards the dog, who immediately headbutts into the outstretched palm yipping happily, and when Credence looks up at Graves, there are tears making his eyes glimmer like glass.

They had talked about the idea of a pet before, over the discussions of Graves often having to spend a lot of time at work and skirting around the subject of Credence’s unspoken loneliness. Credence had spoken often and fondly of the possibility of a dog, a wonderful little creature he can care for and love and bond with and keep company. He’d never had a pet before, but had wanted a dog. _Maybe some day_ , Credence often said wistfully.

“Percival…” he whispers now, voice sounding choked.

“Do you like him?” Graves asks uselessly, because the answer is fairly evident from the way Credence gathers the little dog to his chest and peppers kisses all over his velvet head and muzzle.

“I _love_ him,” Credence warbles despairingly, as a rough little tongue flicks out to lick his nose. He laughs, holding the puppy up, little legs pawing at the air as if he’s swimming. “Oh, just _look_ at you,” he coos around his tears. “You’re the most perfect little thing I’ve ever seen,” Credence says, bringing the dog back against his chest, stroking him along his tawny neck and down to where his missing leg is a smooth stump. The dog seems to love the attention, wriggling with joy.

Graves hurriedly swipes at his own wet face as he settles down to join Credence and the puppy on the floor, unable to remember the last time he was so filled with love and affection for anything since Tina’s birth. “What are you going to name him?” he asks.

Credence hums, sniffling lightly. “I don’t know,” he says slowly, scritching at the little floppy ears. “What’s your name, little one? Hmm?” And then, a slow, insufferable smile lights up Credence’s eyes. “What about Bucky?”

Graves’ mouth twitches despite himself. “Better than Tripod.” He laughs as Credence smacks his arm lightly.

“That’s terrible, Percival,” he cries. “You’re never allowed to name anything, especially not any of our children.”

Graves leans in and steals a small kiss, grinning widely at the mention of _their_ children.

…

Their life changes with the addition of the new puppy, and Graves never would’ve guessed how much work and attention such a small creature would need. Whimpers wake them up as early as four in the morning, a cold nose nuzzling against Graves’ neck making him groan before Credence gets up to let Bucky out for his morning wee.

Now, when they go out, Credence gets antsy after being gone for more than a few hours, tugging on Graves’ sleeve and insisting they need to get back home, Bucky misses them. Sex becomes all but nonexistent when Credence insists they can’t possibly do anything with the baby looking, but yet unable to bear the thought of locking Bucky out of their room when he whines and paws at the door.

The single instance when Graves makes the mistake of leaving the door ajar as they try to steal a few moments together is a disaster. He’s laying Credence out on the bed for the first time in what feels like an eternity, kissing him desperately. Both of them feel a little wild from nearly two weeks of nothing but hurried mornings in the shower, and even then, Bucky is often whining just outside the door looking for his parents.

Graves is just beginning to lift up Credence’s shirt, mouthing hungrily at the slope of his navel as his princess moans beneath him when he hears a vicious little growl from the doorway.

“Bucky, no!” he hears Credence yell out sternly just as Graves feels a set of small teeth clamp around his ankle and tug. “Bucky! Let go of Daddy right now!”

The little dog is furious, growling continuously as Graves jerks around and grabs his pudgy little body to lift him up. His passion fades so quickly, it leaves him cold.

“ _No_ ,” Graves tells Bucky sternly, holding the puppy in front of his face. Bucky squirms excitedly and woofs a string of little barks before finally calming in his hands. “No biting.”

Credence thins his lips to hide his smile, holding up a hand in front of his mouth, but Graves still sees it.

“Credence,” he says in exasperation, tucking the puppy up against his chest, “this isn’t _funny._ We have to start training him and he has to learn that he can’t come into the room and jump onto the bed whenever he likes.”

Credence pouts, but Graves can see he’s still holding in his laughter. “But he was just trying to protect me,” Credence insists. “He thought you were _attacking_ me,” he says, voice finally breaking as he tips over with a fit of giggles.

Graves sighs and looks up at the ceiling in despair, Bucky lapping at his chin happily now that he's leaving Mommy alone.

All of it almost— _almost_ makes Graves rethink his decision about Bucky, but one look at Credence’s adoring expression when he looks at the dog makes his heart melt all over again, and he forgets what it feels like not to have their little pup.

They’re beginning to become a little family, Bucky taking to the both of them immediately, even if he seems to favor Credence just the slightest bit more. But it’s not as if Graves can blame him. Credence coddles Bucky with the utmost loving patience, spending his days potty training him and teaching him new tricks and sneaking him treats despite Graves’ worrying over Bucky’s weight.

On most nights, Graves would find Credence with his sociology textbooks spread out on the living room rug with Bucky pouncing on every moving paper and pencil as Credence laughs, far more distracted by the pup’s antics than any of his actual coursework.

“Does your professor approve of this method of studying?” Graves interrupts, smiling wryly over the pup’s excited yipping.

Credence grins up at Graves. “You bet she would,” he coos, scritching at Bucky’s neck, his little hind leg thumping happily on the book’s pages.

Graves soon finds his favorite parts of his days are when Credence sends his snapshots and selfies of his adventures with Bucky. They’re a welcome distraction from his own work, a reprieve from his headaches from unreasonable clients and incompetent interns. He barely notices when Sera smirks at him over lunch for constantly flipping through his phone in hopes of seeing new images from his boys.

“They look like they're having fun,” Sera says teasingly, peeking over his shoulder.

Graves is only mildly exasperated when he sees the photos of Credence with Bucky on campus. His heart fills with fondness at the images of them together lounging on the grass in the quad and Credence sneaking the pup into his lectures and classes, Credence grinning cheekily as he snaps selfies with Bucky tucked beneath his desk. They’ve become inseparable. Whenever Credence goes, Bucky follows.

Graves comes home from work one day to find Credence in the pool with Bucky, trying to teach the puppy how to swim, eventually gathering the scared little pup in his arms when he tries repeatedly to paddle, only to end up flailing in panic as he sinks in the water.

“It’s okay, baby. Mommy’s got you,” Graves hears Credence whispering to the dog between kisses on his wet velvety head, and his heart melts.

And yet, despite all of their efforts, they can’t seem to find a way of training Bucky to stay out of their room. The pup often jumps between them at night as they’re preparing for bed, slipping between the covers to loll his tongue and grin happily at the both of them, Credence too charmed and soft-hearted to even think of taking Bucky back to his crate in the living room.

The one time they tried to keep the dog out of their room, Bucky spends the night whining and scratching at their door, whimpering sadly until Credence jumps out of bed to shower him with kisses and carry him back inside. Graves sighs, defeated.

…

A week passes before Graves can even think of a possible solution. Credence doesn’t want to send Bucky away to a training program, stubbornly putting his foot down even as Graves pleads with him over lunch that Saturday.

Graves collapses on the couch after a small argument over the subject of Bucky’s disobedience and Credence’s insistence on perpetually letting him have his way. Credence had stormed out of the house to the garden, unwilling to argue any more on sending Bucky away for training. The answer was a flat _no_.

Graves is rubbing at his brow silently when he hears the click-clack of Bucky’s nails against the wooden floor, a soft tongue lapping at his ankles.

“Hey, kiddo,” Graves mutters, switching on the TV to an animal network, grunting lowly in pain when Bucky jumps up to lay on his belly. He’s an agile little thing, somewhat clumsy because of his missing foreleg, but pretty active all the same with boundless puppy energy. “Getting a little heavy there, aren’t we? Has Mommy been sneaking you sausage again? Hmm?”

Bucky usually whines and huffs and races to the kitchen at the sound of his favorite word, ‘sausage’, but this time he doesn’t even respond. Instead, he pants, tongue lolling out contentedly as his eyes fix curiously on the TV screen where a gazelle lopes happily over savannah grasses. He barely answers when Graves calls his name softly, only looking back briefly before his head tilts towards the television again and it gives Graves an idea.

“Bucky likes TV,” Graves tells Credence slowly over dinner.

Credence is still a little miffed from earlier that afternoon, but he’d thawed when he saw his favorite dinner laid out on the table. He looks up in surprise at Graves’ words. “What?” he asks in confusion.

“Bucky likes TV,” Graves repeats, more enthusiastic about the idea now as he starts talking about it. “You should’ve seen him this afternoon, Cree. He was completely enrapt. He even whined when I turned it off to take him out back.”

“Okay.” And now Credence looks amused, twirling a bit of pasta around his fork. “And what exactly were you two watching?”

“Some animal documentary.” Graves wipes his mouth with a napkin, brow furrowed, a plan of attack already unfolding in his head.

“What are you thinking?” Credence asks, teasing. Graves spies him slipping a bit of food underneath the table and hears the smack of Bucky’s chewing.

“Right now I’m thinking the dog will gain five pounds in a week if you keep spoiling him,” Graves says.

“He’s a growing boy,” Credence says defensively as he grins down at Bucky.

They leave the TV on downstairs that night before retiring for bed, and Bucky plops himself down on the rug to watch. Realizing Bucky isn’t about to follow even when Credence calls his name, Graves scoops him up and hurries upstairs before Credence can change his mind about leaving the dog alone.

“Percy!” Credence exclaims as Graves kicks the bedroom door closed and walks them both over to the bed.

“Finally,” Graves sighs, laying Credence down gently. In seconds, he’s pushing up the hem of Credence’s shirt and peppering kisses along the long column of his neck. “ _God_ , I missed you, princess.”

“It’s been maybe two and a half weeks, tops,” Credence replies, gasping softly as Graves mouths along the dip of his collarbone, his spine arching up off the bed as he raises his arms to curl around Graves’ neck.

“Two and a half weeks too long,” Graves growls, biting down gently on his neck and licking softly to ease the slight sting when Credence whimpers.

As much as Credence feigns indifference, the ease with which Graves is able to make him moan with just a few touches to his plump nipples and his sensitive inner thighs is enough to see how affected Credence is from their short abstinence. They fall into each other eagerly, trying to make up for lost time, Credence trembling as Graves takes him apart with his tongue and fingers. He’s panting and desperate by the time Graves slides into him, both sighing with the relief of finally being together again.

Graves doesn’t let Credence out of bed until morning, despite his attempts to leave to check on Bucky, distracting Credence with kisses whenever he tries to escape and drawing him back into bed. Credence finally succeeds at stumbling out of bed at dawn to flick off the TV. He returns with a sleepy Bucky in his arms, pouting when Graves arches an eyebrow.

“He was all alone, Percival,” Credence says softly, cuddling the pup to his chest. Graves sighs, already relenting. Bucky is gently placed at the end of the bed, Credence crawling on all fours to curl up on Graves’ chest.

“I needed that,” Credence mutters, sighing into Graves’ neck. “I was almost worried we wouldn’t have sex ever again.”

“Would’ve rented out a fucking hotel room if we couldn’t find any other solution,” Graves says, half-serious, half-joking as his words tease out a giggle from Credence. “Or gotten a dog sitter. Or _something_.”

“My husband is a ridiculous man,” Credence sighs.

“You’re ridiculous,” Graves counters, stroking his thumb along the line of Credence’s sharp jaw. “You brought the baby back to bed when we could be doing other _stuff_.” Credence’s mouth curls downward in a dramatic pout that Graves leans up to kiss away, and they break apart into soft laughter. “We're both ridiculous,” Graves finally admits.

“I love this, you know,” Credence says, drawing looping circles with his finger over the skin of Graves’ chest. “I love that we're a family. Everything feels… _whole_ with Bucky,” he says, shrugging slightly but his smile is bright. “He's our child. And he'll be good company too, when you have to be away for work. I'm glad we have him.”

“I wouldn't trust anyone else to take care of you when I'm not here, sweetheart,” Graves replies, pulling Credence in for another kiss. “But I can’t believe I’m raising more children in my old age,” he says, only pretending to be disgruntled.

Credence’s eyes are bright as he grins down at Graves. “I think we should have more.” he says eagerly. “Bucky needs a sibling so he’s not as lonely. He cries when we’re not around. I saw him on the baby cam. It’s the saddest thing, Percival. Ooh, how about a kitten? I think Bucky would love to have a kitten. Or a rabbit. I’ve seen these little miniature pigs. They’re so cute, Percival. Can we?”

Graves sighs, not sure if he can handle another one so soon. “We’ll think about that later, princess. One is enough for now.”

A week later, Bucky discovers shoes. Graves comes home to find his sheepish child with his favorite oxfords dangling from his grinning mouth, the red bottoms torn to shreds and the shiny patent leather gnawed beyond repair. Graves sighs and tugs the shoes away, knowing they're in for a new trial with the pup. Despite Bucky’s newfound love for destruction, they're going to make this work somehow, damnit, but one is definitely more than enough.

Credence just laughs.


	6. Year 6

\+ 1.

Credence sees it hanging on a rack in a little boutique on La Jolla and Melrose. It's supposed to be a joke, he knows this, but thinking of Percival lounging in his office at home in this almost obscene sweatshirt makes him flush and his thighs tremble. He doesn't make eye contact with the amused clerk as the awful boy smirks and wraps it in a plastic bag.

Bucky yips at his ankles later on, tongue lolling, ignorant of the Bad Thing his Mommy is doing.

“This is our little secret, okay, Bucky?” Credence says, stroking his velvety head. “It's a surprise for Daddy. We’ll show him later tonight.”

Credence can barely contain himself by the time he and Bucky walk through the backdoor of the house. He practically skips up the stairs to hide the present underneath the bed, feeling the need to hide the gift even though Percival is away. Bucky is squirming with excitement in the doorway, tail whipping back and forth as though he too feels his Mommy’s anticipation.

Credence will show Percival the gift later when he calls. He can’t possibly wait for the whole week to be over for him to see it.

That night when Percival’s face flickers into focus on Credence's laptop screen, he looks tired already. There are dark shadows ringing his eyes and exhaustion marking every line of his face, but a wide smile lightens his dour expression as soon as he sees Credence.

“Hey, princess,” Percival says softly, voice bright with relief. “How is everything at home?”

Credence smiles, lounging on his belly on their bed. “It’s okay,” he sighs. “Would be better if you were here with me, though.”

“I know, sweetheart,” Percival sighs, scrubbing a hand over his face, the delightful rasp of his stubble whispering against his palm. Credence bites his lip, already missing the feeling of the soft scrape against his sensitive inner thighs. “But I’ll be back soon, I promise. It’s only for another few days.”

Percival has gotten better at not working too much in the past couple of years, but the firm still sometimes sends him away on business trips to meet with especially important clients. But he's never had to go for an entire week before, it’s usually only for a couple of days. It’s been nearly a whole day already with six more to go, and Credence _misses_ him.

“At least you’ll be home for Valentine’s,” Credence says coyly, twining a loose curl around his finger. “I already have your present. Bought it just today with Bucky.”

“Is that so?” Percival asks, suddenly more alert with interest. “Well, now I’m desperate to know what it is. Do I get a sneak peek?”

Credence squirms, fluttering his eyes the way he knows drives Percival mad. “I’m wearing it,” he says with a little grin, pushing up off the bed to sit up on his knees. He smiles innocently as he tilts the laptop camera down to show off the big oversized sweater swallowing up his wrists and flopping off one of his pale shoulders, the softness of his creamy thighs peeking out underneath. Across the chest of the sweater, in big bold Barbie font, a curling “Call me Daddy” is screenprinted in baby boy blue.

“Daddy” is a word that only comes out to play when Credence is tipsy on wine and courage, whispering into Percival’s ear that _princess wants to go home, Daddy, come and fuck me, Daddy, I want you to come inside my pussy, Daddy, I want you to fill me up until I’m big and swollen with your baby, Daddy_. Nasty filthy things that make Credence blush when he remembers them in the morning.

Even over two hundred miles away, Credence can feel the rumbling purr that goes through Graves’ chest.

“Princess,” Percival says slowly, a dark edge in his voice and a familiar heat making his eyes go dark. Credence’s belly fills with a sudden flock of butterflies. “You want me to suffer, don’t you?” Percival continues, staring avidly at the logo on his sweater. “Looking so pretty and soft in your little sweater, all the way home in L.A. where I can’t touch.”

Credence sticks his tongue out playfully. “That’s what you get for leaving Bucky and me here all by ourselves. We can’t help it when we get into trouble without you around.”

Percival shakes his head, the small image of him shuffling around as he relaxes against his headboard to watch Credence preen and pout exaggeratedly. “Come on, baby. That’s not fair. You’re the one who nearly made me miss my plane this morning.”

“You didn’t seem to be complaining much,” Credence counters, hiking up the hem of the sweater a little so Percival can get a flash of peachy pink lace. He’s gratified to see his man’s expression crumple with devastation at the hint of new lingerie, fists curling tightly on his powerful thighs as though he’s stopping himself from trying to reach across the screen to touch Credence.

“You’re going to ruin me, you sweet cruel thing,” Percival accuses. “Cmon, princess. Show me. Won’t you take pity on your old man, hmm?”

“My old man,” Credence murmurs, feeling heady and powerful as Percival’s jaw tightens and his nostrils flare. They both know very well that in this moment, all the power lays in Credence’s little palm. That if he wanted, he could shut off the connection, and Percival would still text him a string of heartfelt pleas and love notes despite being blue-balled.

But Credence loves being a good girl, Percy’s good girl, and so he stretches up and tugs off the big sweater slowly, revealing the long slope of his tummy inch by inch, pale and paper frail in the dim light. His thighs are long and creamy in little frilly garters, a delicate bralette hugging his slim chest. He widens the spread of his knees so Percival can have a better look at his new panties, a tiny peach triangle held up by silk ribbon.

“Do you like them, Daddy?” Credence asks, his heart thundering in his chest, as he waits with bated breath for Percival’s response.

They’ve never done this sober before. He’s only ever called Percival “Daddy” when he’s a little loose-tongued from drink and whispered in the dark. Their distance across the computer screen makes him brave, but he still doesn’t know how his husband will respond.

The room suddenly feels too bright, and Credence is tempted to reach over to shut off one of the bedside lamps, to hide from the light that reveals too much. He forces himself to stay still, picking at one of the garter straps shyly as he waits for Percival’s reply, peering back at the screen from beneath his lashes.

“Fucking hell, princess,” Percival finally says on a burst of air, sounding stunned. His pupils are blown so wide with lust, Credence is taken aback. “I _love_ them, fucking—I must be the luckiest man on Earth, baby. Just look at you. So fucking gorgeous. _Fuck_. Call me that again,” he begs, voice low with desperation.

Credence had always known in the back of his head how much Percival enjoys this, this play with nicknames, but he'd never asked anything of Credence that was out of his comfort zone. It makes him heady with lust and affection now, to finally be brave enough to give this to his husband, even if it had taken nearly six years and hundreds of miles of distance for him to work up the nerve.

“Call you what, Daddy?” Credence’s voice has gone high and breathy in his eagerness and he delights in Percival’s responding groan. “I miss you so much, Daddy. Leaving me all lonely. I _need_ you. Who’s gonna fuck me when you’re not here, Daddy?” He pouts as he slips a hand down the front of his panties, lazily rubbing himself as Percival swears violently.

“Sweet girl, take off those panties for me.” Percival looks absolutely _wild,_ lips curling feral with hunger. It thrills Credence to hear Percival call him that, a word his husband is normally as careful with as Credence is with “Daddy.” He feels a sudden shiver race down his spine to see the uninhibited desire in his husband’s eyes and he wonders idly what his man will do to him once he finally comes home, how insatiable Percival will be once they’re together again, and Credence can’t wait.

Credence leans back against the pillows and makes a show of tugging one little bow on his hip loose before considering the other side mock-seriously, toying with the long ribbons. Once Percy looks desperate enough, he pushes the underwear down and off of his long legs, humming as he leaves the garters on. He likes the soft pressure they put on his thighs, like Daddy’s here for real clutching at him needily. His plump pink cock bounces eagerly up against his navel and Credence dips his long fingers into the small tub of slick he’s set aside for this exact reason, stroking his length with a loose fist.

“Daddy,” he whines, “this isn’t going to be enough.” He rolls his hips up into his own slack grip, cheeks dark with a deep blush as he teases himself almost cruelly.

“What does my princess want?” Percival murmurs, his voice gravel rough. Credence can hear shuffling sounds of fabric through the laptop’s little speakers, his man no doubt touching himself as he enjoys the show.

“I want your fingers in me,” Credence says honestly, imagining their thickness, their weight, the deftness with which Percival always seems to find Credence’s most pleasurable spots. “I want you to finger me until I’m about to come and then I want you to pull them out and fuck me with your big cock. Let me see it, Daddy, let me see your cock. _Please?”_

“Jesus _fuck_ —” Percival swears, looking wrecked already.

There’s more shuffling around, Credence sighing as he watches his husband unbuckle his trousers before moving to unbutton his shirt. The thick line of Percival’s cock swells against his thigh, the same flared thick head that Credence had eagerly cradled in his throat that morning already dripping with precome.

“Daddy,” Credence sighs happily, rewarding him by arching his back and slipping two slim fingers into where he aches hot and needy for his Percival. Even two fingers aren’t a thick enough stretch, too soft, too gentle, not _enough._ But still, he squeaks when he slides over the plush little swell inside of himself, so sensitive even without Percival’s tongue curling against it, bolts of pleasure making his spine curve and his thighs tremble.

“There you go, baby,” Percival croons. “Touch yourself for me. Does that feel good?”

Credence whines softly, his free hand reaching up to pinch his own nipple through the bralette. “Not nearly as good as when you do it. It’s not enough,” he repeats balefully.

“I know, princess,” Percival says soothingly, “but don’t worry. I wouldn’t leave you high and dry like this for a whole week. I left you something in the drawer on my side.”

Credence squints at the screen before pulling his fingers out and reaching over to the bedside table, making sure he’s still putting on a show for Percival. He stretches languidly across the bed, arching his back so his husband gets a nice view of his ass. He widens the spread of his knees so Percival can see where he’s worked himself pink and slick and open, and he smiles to himself when he hears Percival’s stuttering hitch of breath.

Credence opens the drawer to find a slim black box and settles back against the pillows before he opens it slowly, knowing Percival is watching intently. His eyes widen as he pulls out a long tapered toy made of bright pink silicone that feels velvety smooth to the touch. If Credence closes his eyes, he can almost pretend it’s his husband in his hand and while it’s not nearly as thick as Percival, it’s certainly more than two of his own fingers.

“Daddy,” Credence purrs as he strokes a hand along the length of the toy. “You shouldn’t have.”

“Can’t leave my princess all alone,” Percival replies as he lazily strokes his own cock. “Why don’t you give it a try? See if you like it.”

Credence can see the way Percival’s eyes darken as he covers the toy in slick before leaning back against his nest of pillows and splaying his legs wide. He makes sure the camera has a good view as he slowly slides the toy into himself, sighing softly as his eyes flutter closed, pretending it’s really Percival filling him, making him melt into a puddle of pure, melted sugar. The toy doesn’t have his weight or his warmth or even the sweet stretch Credence gets from being fucked by his man, but it’s just enough to pretend, even if silicone is nothing compared to Percival’s warmth and strength and the heavy grip of his hands on Credence’s hips.

“ _Fuck_ , baby,” Percival gasps on his side of the screen. “Do you have any idea how you look right now? So fucking beautiful,” he whispers reverently as he strokes his cock faster, matching Credence’s rhythmic thrusts with the toy.

“Daddy…” Credence moans, already close. He's high on the heady combination of the toy pressed up against the spot inside of him that brings stars behind his eyes and the way Percival is watching him intently, dark eyes roving over him, leaving burning trails of warmth in their wake like physical caresses. His free hand grips his own cock tightly in a closed fist, moving in rhythm with the toy. “Percival—I-I’m close,” he whines, thrusting the toy harder against that sweet swollen spot.

“Come for me, princess,” Percival commands, sounding wrecked. “Let me see my princess come.”

As though dragged out by Percival’s words, Credence’s orgasm crashes through him like a wave, whiting out his vision. After a small eternity of pure bliss, Credence comes back to himself shivering and arching up against the pillows with his come striped across his heaving belly, hot as melted wax as he clenches around the toy.

“ _Fuck_ ,” he hears from the laptop. Credence lifts his head dazedly, blinking glossy, tear-drenched eyes as he comes down from the high of his orgasm. He smiles softly at the sight of Percival, shirtless, all thick strong shoulders and swollen biceps and furry chest, cock clutched in his fist, absolutely spent.

“I can’t wait to come home to you, sweetheart,” Percival sighs after they both catch their breaths. “My coworkers can laugh all they like about how whipped I am, but they don’t understand because they don’t have someone as amazing as you.”

Credence laughs softly, tucking his chin over the pillow of his arms as he rolls onto his side to face the laptop. His chest fills with a gentle warmth at his husband’s words. He feels almost as if he’s glowing, as flickery as a firefly, soft and happy and full of light from being well-loved. “I can’t wait til you’re home too,” he murmurs sleepily.

“Me either, darling.” He hears Percival’s happy, sated sigh. “But for now, sleep, princess. I’ll call you in the morning, okay? I love you.”

“‘Mm. Good night, Percival,” Credence murmurs and drifts off to sleep, already dreaming of languid kisses and strong arms.

…

Tina comes over to stay with him for the rest of the week and her eyes nearly bug out of her head when she sees Credence’s text messages to Percival.

“‘ _Daddy_ ’?!” she shrieks, horrified as she quickly drops his phone back into his hand as though it had transformed into a giant spider. “This is new.”

“So what?” Credence says defensively, snatching his phone back. He’s blushing from the roots of his hair all the way down to the tips of his toes as he curls his knees up on the couch. It’s her own fault for stealing his phone and looking. “Bucky calls him Daddy too!”

“He does not!” Tina yells, trying to lower her voice when Bucky perks up and looks over at the sound of his name. “Bucky is a dog. He doesn’t call anyone anything. Just admit it, Credence Barebone-Graves, this is another one of your gross sex things.”

Credence chews on his lip for a while before he replies, glaring petulantly when he finally finds the words, “Tina,” he begins. “You might be my best friend but I still don’t want to talk to you about sex with your father. Doesn’t matter how long we’ve known each other, or how long I’ve been married to him. Besides,” he adds, laughter edging into his voice when he sees the mounting horror in her expression, “you’re my _stepdaughter_ , remember? You really shouldn’t ask about these things.”

He only laughs harder when Tina wallops him with a couch cushion.

Despite Tina’s terrific company and her best efforts at trying to distract him with stories about her travels with Newt and shopping trips and visits to Queenie’s house to see her new baby, the week still drags on far too slowly. It feels like an eternity before Credence finally gets to usher Tina and Bucky into the Tank and stomps on the gas the entire way to LAX. They all but throw themselves at Percival as soon as he’s out the gate, Bucky barking happily as he paws at his Daddy’s leg.

Several of Percival’s coworkers turn around to look at them from the luggage claim to see the ruckus they’re all causing. Sera gives a jaunty wave and Abernathy gives them a bemused smile. There’s another gentleman with them Credence recognizes from the Christmas party last year that sneers in their direction.

Percival ignores all of them as he wraps his arms around both Credence and Tina, pulling them in close to press light kisses to their cheeks before bending down to greet Bucky. “Hey there, kiddo,” he says, rubbing the dog’s ears. “You been good for Mommy?”

“Dad!” Tina shrieks, horrified that they're really doing this in public as Credence blushes strawberry pink.

Percival laughs as he straightens up, wrapping his arm around Credence’s waist as they head out of the terminal. “Missed you too, Teens. Now let’s go home. I’m fucking tired.”

…

Dinner is a quiet affair. Tina takes her leave at the end of it, claiming they need their alone time together and she refuses to be witness to any more of their depravity, she’s been traumatized enough, thanks very much. She kisses both Percival and Credence on the cheek as she leaves, muttering the entire way to her car.

Credence and Bucky both end up curled up in Percival’s lap on the couch after she leaves, unwilling to be parted from him as he wraps his arms around them both.

“I missed you so much,” Credence breathes, sighing against his neck.

“I missed you too, baby,” Percival replies softly. “Both of you. The whole week has been such a stupid mess,” he sighs, sounding exhausted.

“What happened?” Credence asks, nuzzling closer. Percival hadn’t really mentioned anything wrong during their video chats and messages. He plays idly with one of the buttons on Percival’s shirt, wondering if he can slip his hand through the gaps to touch his chest.

“Incompetence, as usual,” Percival sighs, his hand slipping beneath Credence’s t-shirt to rub distracting circles into the sensitive crest of his hip. “I almost punched Harrison on Thursday.” That was the associate who had sneered at them at the airport.

Credence gasps, sitting up slightly. “Percival!” he admonishes. “ _Why_?”

“He was saying a bunch of dumb shit,” Percival retorts unrepentantly. “I probably would’ve tackled him in front of the clients in the middle of a club if Sera didn’t stop me,” he mumbles, wrapping one large hand around Credence’s thigh to pull him closer. Bucky whimpers softly as he’s disrupted from his doze and moves to the other side of the couch before falling back asleep. “Can’t let assholes get away with that shit.”

“What did he say?”

There’s a long pause, as though Percival is unwilling to talk about it, and he probably would’ve stayed silent if Credence didn’t needle him more persistently. “ _Percival_ , tell me.”

“It was about you,” he finally says.

Credence gives Percival a look. “Percy. I don’t need you to be fighting your coworkers because of rumors, or whatever else they’re trying to say about me.”

Percival nuzzles Credence’s neck gently, stubble scraping along delicate skin in a deliciously rough drag. “It was very rude,” he says finally. “Teasing me about not going to a strip club with him.” Credence can’t help but tighten his fingers on his husband’s shirt, unashamed in his possessiveness. “About how I get enough stripteases at home. And him, thinking about you like that, like you’re just some young pretty thing I’m just fucking around with… like you’re just some _plaything_ —like you’re my _whore_ —”

The anger in Percival’s voice makes Bucky whine lowly. Percy reaches over to pat his soft head soothingly as Credence curls up even closer against him. He knows Percival is leaving out some of the nastier things his coworker said for his sake.

“You shouldn’t let that bother you,” Credence says lowly, ignoring the little pang of hurt he feels in his chest. He's better than this, he reminds himself, _it doesn't matter_. Credence smiles and shushes his husband gently when Percival automatically starts to protest. “I don’t care what they think of me,” he murmurs, voice soft. “They don’t matter. You make me happy. They don’t. They're narrow minded people who will never understand us.”

Percival muffles his groan into the side of Credence’s neck. “I don’t deserve you. You’re so sweet. Kind. Beautiful. Strong. Perfect,” he says, punctuating each word with kisses to Credence’s temple, nose, and cheeks. “But I would’ve definitely punched that fucker Harrison for you.”

Credence laughs, kissing Percy’s forehead fondly. “I’m glad you didn’t,” he sighs, “but that’s very sweet of you. Though I would’ve hated to have to post your bail, like I almost had to do that time in Big Sur.”

They laugh quietly, thinking back on fond memories as they simply cuddle for a long while. They trade slow, lazy kisses, content to just be close to each other as Bucky sleeps on the arm of the couch, snoring quietly.

“Bucky was really happy to see you,” Credence giggles, warm at the thought of how well loved Percival is. He might often try to appear aloof and cool but in reality, he’s just a big old softie, especially with the people he loves most.  

“Mm. I missed Bucky, too,” Percival murmurs, pressing his teeth to the underside of Credence’s jaw playfully. “But I think I missed you more.” And when a large hand cups Credence’s ass, kneading and squeezing possessively, Credence gives a low, happy sigh.

“It’s been a _whole week_ ,” Credence murmurs, touching the buttons on Percival’s shirt lightly before cleverly slipping them one by one out of their latches, revealing the thick muscles and the soft hair on his chest underneath. “A _whole week_ without you.”

“Have you been using the toy, baby?” Percival asks, his voice already pitched low with arousal. Credence can feel his erection from where it fills hot and hard against his bum, and he wriggles slightly in Percival’s lap, delighting in the low growl that earns him. “Have you been using it and thinking about me?”

“Yes, just this morning,” Credence whispers like a secret. “I was thinking about you and I missed you so much. Even now, I just want to have you in me as soon as possible.” His lashes flutter as courage gathers in his chest. He leans close, draping his arms over Percival’s broad shoulders as he begs softly, “Please, Daddy?”

The sound that comes from Percival’s chest can only be described as a guttural growl as he presses a hard, desperate kiss to Credence’s mouth, and they lose themselves for a moment in each other. They work frantically to get each other’s clothes off, desperate to be pressed skin to skin, hip to hip, and when they finally slide up against each other, warm and heated, they both shiver.

“Bed, bed,” Credence pleads breathlessly, near shaking. He’s grabbed and lifted, lips attached to the hollow of his throat sucking a stinging little kiss mark with teeth and tongue as Percival carries him upstairs. Before Credence knows it, he’s on their sheets, spread out like a feast for his husband’s hungry eyes.

“Daddy, Daddy,” Credence demands, reaching out, tugging Percival down to press hot, slick kisses to his mouth, legs locking around his waist, unwilling to be parted for even a moment. He wails when slicked thick fingers sink into where he is aching and empty, a slow wet glide that curls expertly into him and fills him. The calloused pads of Percival’s fingers massage over the swell of Credence’s prostate, a constant unrelenting pressure that drives him wild. He feels as if he’s in a dream. He's never felt such potent arousal before, the feeling of finally being reunited with his husband after so long.

“Do it,” Credence sobs, tears streaking down his cheeks as he shakes with pleasure. He feels swollen, ripe like a cherry waiting to be plucked and fondled, every inch of his skin buzzing with electric sensitivity. He whines incoherently when Percival thumbs a soft, plush nipple, rolling it beneath his finger until it's a hard little nub. “I want it, Daddy. Please please _please_.”

“Since my princess asked so nicely,” Percival murmurs hoarsely, but his confident words shake as he tries to steady himself enough to press the thick head of his cock to where Credence aches, slick and needy. He slips once, velvet skin sliding against Credence’s thigh, and Credence sobs loudly, devastated at the miss.

“Again, again,” Percival mutters reassuringly, and this time the tip catches, stretching Credence wide as he slides in, and Credence gives a sharp little laugh of delirious _relief._

This is it. This is home, being pinned by Percival’s warm familiar weight, the delicious heat of him pressed along the length of Credence’s body from chest to toe, legs tangled together, mouths kissing messy and wet. Nothing will ever feel as good as this, of having Percival inside of him where he belongs, snug and warm and thick.

“Percival,” Credence cries, his spine arching up in a bowed curve as he feels Percival’s hips begin to move, an excruciatingly slow grind. The familiar thickness of his cock brushes up against the spot inside where Credence needs him most, and he nearly comes from that sensation alone.

“Stay with me, princess,” Percival pants, palming Credence’s cheek reverently. “Darling. Sweetheart. My beautiful wife.” He mouths at Credence’s throat, groaning softly as he begins a hard, heavy pace, a familiar rhythm, and Credence feels as if he’s floating. He tangles their hands together, holding tight, and it grounds him a little, the rough skin in his grip anchoring him to the feeling of Percival above, and inside, and all around him.

“I’m so close,” Credence says breathlessly, feeling hot wet tears slide into the curls at his temples. He clutches desperately at Percival’s thick shoulders, arching up against him to get as close as possible, the drag of his cock against the skin of Percival’s flat stomach driving him closer and closer to the edge.

“C’mon, baby,” Percival murmurs, kissing along the line of Credence’s jaw possessively. “Come for me, princess.”

That’s all it takes, a few softly spoken words and a sweet stroke to Credence’s full cock. He spills hotly between their stomachs, gasping as he’s kissed through it, shaking and in love. He’s so full of love, he could burst, and his eyes flutter shut as he feels Percival come inside of him. They lay tangled together for a long precious moment, relishing in their connection for just a while longer, Credence unwilling to let his husband slide out of him as he holds him tight.

“Just for a little longer,” Credence murmurs when Percival shifts to move away.

“I don’t want to crush you, princess,” Percival whispers against Credence’s mouth, leaving soft, fervent little kisses as he speaks.

“It feels good,” Credence sighs happily, sleep creeping up on the edges of his voice. “I feel so safe, Percy, when I have you here with me. So warm and big. I don’t ever want you to leave again.”

“I’m sorry, princess.” Percival sounds choked.

“It’s okay,” Credence reassures him, already slipping into sleep, his voice tapering into a soft murmur. “I love you. You’re home.” He sighs happily when he feels Percival’s arms wrap tighter around him.

“I’m going to semi-retire soon,” Percival murmurs, and Credence is pulled out of his doze at the words, hoping fervently that his husband means it this time. He knows the possibility of it actually happening is slim. Percival is too attached to his work and Credence would never ask that of him, but he can’t help the tiny spark of hope that flutters in his chest.

“I can’t bear to be away from you so much,” Percival continues, voice deep with impending sleep. “We’re going to travel and I’ll show you the world. We’ll go everywhere and see everything.”

“Shhh,” Credence whispers, smiling. He feels warmed from the lovely ideas and sweet promises, even if he doesn't know how long it will take for them to become reality. But Percival always keeps his word. “We’ll think of it later. We have time for that.”

“No,” Percival says, sounding slightly more awake. “I already told Sera I was going to do that. Starting next month, I'm only going into the office three days out of the week, and they're only allowed to call me in emergencies. But I'm going to take the rest of the month off first. We're going to have so much time together, darling. You'll probably get sick of me,” he adds wryly.

Credence tries to sit up, feeling much more awake now, but part of his chest still pinned by Percival’s shoulder. He settles for tilting Percival’s face up with his hands so he can see his husband’s expression. “I could never be sick of you. But you really mean what you just said? That's for real?”

Percival smiles softly. “I would never lie to you about something like this, princess. I've been wanting to do this for a long time so we can have more time together. And now I finally can.”

Credence shakes his head slightly, still in disbelief. He can't believe it, that Percival would put his job aside for him. That they're really going to have this. Happiness and excitement bubbles up in his chest like champagne fizz until Credence is sure he's glowing with joy.

“So Credence,” Percival begins, “where would you like to go?”

Credence tightens his hold around Percival’s shoulders and smiles. “I would go anywhere in the world with you. But for the first stop, let's go back to Puerto Rico. I miss being in paradise with you.”

Percival grins. “Your wish is my command, princess.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic was written and finished before the tragedy of Hurricane Maria and the devastation it left in Puerto Rico. Puerto Rico is not only a special place for Graves and Credence in this 'verse but also the home of one of our writer's families. If you have the means and ability, please consider donating to the hurricane relief: **[unidosporpuertorico.com](http://unidosporpuertorico.com)**
> 
> And thank you, as always, to everyone for your incredible support of this fic and series. We are so blessed to have readers like you.

**Author's Note:**

> follow us on tumblr if you like :)
> 
> pineapplebread.tumblr.com  
> dontyoudarestiles.tumblr.com


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